Do I Dare Disturb the Universe
by pepperlandgirl
Summary: Buffy attempts to bring Spike back, but doesn’t get what she bargained for. B/S B/William Post Chosen COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

**Title**: (Do I Dare) Disturb the Universe.

**Pairing:** Buffy/Spike, Buffy/William

**Spoilers:** Post-Chosen

**Rating**: R

**Summary:** Buffy attempts to bring Spike back, but doesn't get what she bargained for. 

**Author's Note**: I've always wanted to write a Buffy/William fic. I think it would be interesting to explore who Spike was before, and the man inside of him. Plus it's hard to find any good William fics. But this is very much about _Spike_, his relationships, and the man inside of the monster. I hope that even if you don't normally read William fics, you give this story a chance. 

**Disclaimer**: None of it's mine. 

**Distribution:** Take it if you like it, but please email me first. 

Chapter 1

It took a year. A long, hard, painful year, but Buffy finally did it. She pulled her life together and figured out her place in the world. On May 20, 2003 she was homeless and free for the first time in her life. Exactly one year later she had her own apartment, a good well-paying job, and she was enrolled in summer courses. Dawn was finishing her third year of high school, a smart, well-adjusted, responsible young woman. To the casual observer, things seemed to be going well indeed. 

But Buffy wasn't happy, not quite. The shadow of her dead lover loomed over her, and she couldn't shake him. Spike remained alive in her dreams and her heart, and she couldn't even look at any other man, much less consider moving on. Nobody spoke of him or brought him up in anyway. And that hurt the most. Could they all so easily move on and forget his sacrifice? They didn't know him. Only Buffy did, and she couldn't forget him. 

It wasn't an obsession though. Buffy could easily function in the world, and during her busy days she didn't give him a second thought. She couldn't, she had far too many other things to think about. But at night, her time was hers and hers alone—and that is when her thoughts wandered. 

Her favorite memory was easily their last night together, and for the past week, it had been foremost in her mind. For one glorious evening, nothing stood between them. There were no barriers, no hesitation, no regrets, or second thoughts. Buffy had opened up to him in ways that she never had before, with anybody. And in turn, he filled her with the most passionate love she had ever known. It was as though he knew it was his last chance to touch her. Maybe he did know. 

When Spike had stood up to meet her that night, she knew. She knew that he could wrap his arms around her and take her from this world of suffering and regret. All she had to do was trust him, and so when he hesitantly kissed her, she didn't push him away. When he grasped the back of her neck, she arched towards him. When he reached for her buttons, she helped remove her shirt. 

He had started gentle, and Buffy understood that tonight there wasn't any room for the rough stuff. His tongue followed his slightly calloused fingers down her body, across her nipples, into her warm depths. And she returned the favor the best she could. She couldn't say the words, they didn't match her feelings, she didn't know how. Buffy's best tool, her best weapon, was her body and she used that fact to the best of her advantage. If she couldn't tell him, she would show him. 

But apparently, she hadn't done enough. His final words echoed in her ears every night. She should have done more, should have told him sooner, should have made him listen. She tried to tell herself that he denied her love so that she would leave. She tried to tell herself that he was being kind in his own way. But she didn't buy it. 

Nobody suspected she was still in mourning, at least, she never gave them any reason to suspect it. But the burden of carrying the grief was almost enough to break her some nights, and she badly needed support. As time passed, this need did not lessen, only grew greater. And now, the night of the anniversary of his death, Willow sat across from her with troubled eyes and a furrowed brow. 

"You want me to do what?" She asked slowly. 

"Bring him back," Buffy repeated.

"Buffy, I can't do that."

"Why not? You brought me back."

"Buffy, that was different. That was so different. Besides, he was right."  
  


"What? Who was right about what?"

  
"Spike was right. He said there is always a price, and there _was_. Osiris let me take you back, but he took someone in turn." 

"Tara?" 

Willow nodded sadly. "What price are you willing to pay, Buffy?" 

Buffy didn't answer. She couldn't answer. Would she really be willing to sacrifice somebody to have Spike back? The answer, simply, was no. She couldn't do that. "There's got to be a way, Will." 

"Even if we didn't have to worry about the price of the magic, there are other things we have to consider. For one, we don't have a body. That day in the Hellmouth, we were passing back and forth between dimensions. He could have been in a hell dimension when he dusted, which doesn't matter because he, you know, went dusty." 

Buffy remained silent, knowing she couldn't respond to that. 

"Also Buffy," Willow continued gently, "he may be in a better place. He did die to save the world, that's gotta count for something."   
  
Everything in Willow's voice, all her words, her body language screamed _I've learned my lesson, leave this alone!_ But Buffy couldn't back down. 

"I can't live without him anymore, Willow." 

Willow moved to Buffy's side and embraced her. "You're doing just fine, Buffy. In fact, you're doing great! Things have really come together for you." 

Buffy's smile was watery and tight. "Things are fine during the day, when I work. But the rest of the time? Not so much." 

"Buffy I want to help you, in the nice, old-fashioned, non-magicy-messing-around-with-the-natural-order-of-things kind of way." 

"I understand Willow. But theoretically, is it possible?" 

Willow rolled her eyes. "Well, if we're just talking hypotheticals. I would have to get his body from _somewhere_. I wouldn't be able to resurrect it, there's nothing left to resurrect. The only way to get it would involve some dark magic and time travel, which isn't completely impossible, but far from easy. Once I got his body, I would be able to call his soul from wherever it's at, and fill the vessel." 

"Just the soul?" Buffy asked. "Spike was more than that." 

"The vampire part of him too? Jeeze Buffy, I don't know about that. Buffy, you aren't thinking about finding someone else to do this are you?"

"What? No, no of course not. I was just wondering is all. I'll probably feel better tomorrow." 

Willow gave her friend one more, quick hug then stood up. "Buffy, I've got to go. Will you be OK?" 

  
Buffy nodded, "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just going to take a bath and go to bed." 

Willow promised to call and then left. Buffy sat up on the couch for a few more minutes, then retired to her bathroom. The bathtub wasn't very large or luxurious, but it held hot water, and at that second, that was all Buffy needed. 

Willow's explanation of why she couldn't bring Spike back made sense, and there were several very important points that Buffy had glossed over before. Including the fact that Spike could be in heaven. _Can we rest now, Buffy, can we rest?_ He deserved to rest, and she didn't want to take that from him. 

Buffy stayed in the tub until the water was so cold that she shivered. She wanted to avoid going to bed for as long as possible. As soon as she fell asleep, she would dream of him and it would be the sweetest torture. She had the place to herself for the evening, because she wanted to be alone. Dawn understood without an explanation and made arrangements to stay at a friend's house, so she could stay up all night and sob like a baby if she wanted. 

When the icy water forced her out of the bath, she poured herself a drink without bothering to dry off or even get dressed. The brandy slid down her throat, and the artificial warmth spread through her body, making her tingle and flushed. But it didn't dull the pain. 

She wanted him back. She needed him to come back. She had promised Willow that she would let the matter drop, but she didn't plan on keeping that promise. Willow was not the only witch she knew, and she was certain she could find someone more than happy to help her out if the price was right. 

This wasn't something Buffy was rushing into, or something she only considered lightly. She had been thinking about and dreaming about getting him back since the Sunnydale sign fell. 

Finally, slightly drunk and exhausted, she stumbled into her bedroom. She curled around a pillow and pretended that Spike's arms were wrapped around her waist. If she closed her eyes tight enough and concentrated, she could almost feel him, almost smell him again. The closer she got to sleep, the more real he became. 

_You shouldn't fret so much, pet. _

_But I miss you. _

_I miss you too, but you've got to move on. Live. _

_It's been a year, Spike, and I can't stop thinking about you. I just want to be with you again. _

_You can't. You'll be fine, Buffy, I promise. You're strong. _  

_Make love to me?_

_I've got to go Slayer. Be a good girl. Let it go. _

Buffy woke up, confused, with cool tears in her eyes. Just another in a long line of painful dreams. But this time, things were different. Her dreams were mostly memories, or thoughts of how things should have been. Maybe she should just listen to him, and let him go. 

She had never been more indecisive over anything in her life. Her heart was telling her, begging her, pleading with her to do one thing, and her mind couldn't even fully wrap itself around the concept. She _knew_ it was a bad idea, she _knew_ she was setting herself up for failure and pain, and she _knew_ she should move on and come to terms with her loss. She knew all of these things, but she didn't care. 

Sleep would be impossible, so she didn't even try. Instead she got out of bed and sorted through her desk until she found her small, black notebook. The name and number she needed were on the last page; written hastily in pencil and almost faded away. She sipped at her bottle brandy, forgoing the glass completely, as she looked through the book. 

Dorjan was a powerful witch she meant through Angel. He helped track down the new Slayers, and provided a few protection spells for her when she needed help and Willow wasn't readily available. He ostensibly was a good guy, but Buffy knew better. He worked for Wolfram and Hart, and regardless of what Angel said, they were not exactly good. Would it be terribly rude to call him at—Buffy glance at the clock—3 in the morning? Fuck it, this was an emergency. With a gulp of alcohol, she dialed the phone.

The phone rang six times, each unanswered beep increasing Buffy's anxiety exponentially. Finally, he answered the phone, and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief because he didn't sound sleepy or pissed off.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dorjan?" 

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Buffy…Buffy Summers. Angel's friend."

"Oh, hey Buffy. What's up? Is there something wrong?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with a small…project."

"What type of project?"

"It's not really anything I could tell you over the phone."

"Want me to come over tonight?"

"If it's not too late, I would appreciate it." 

"It's not to late for me."   
  
"Great, I live at…"

"Oh, I know where you live. See you in a few." 

Buffy replaced the receiver with a sigh of relief. Well, that was much easier than she thought it would be. Of course, now she had to think of a way to explain the entire situation to him without looking completely insane. A part of Buffy knew that was basically impossible. 

She quickly got dressed and ran a brush through her hair. No point in scaring the poor guy away. She took one more swig of the brandy before hiding the nearly empty bottle in a kitchen cupboard She briefly considered putting on a fresh layer of make-up, but the doorbell rang before she had a chance. 

"How did you get here so fast?" Buffy greeted as she opened the door. 

"Teleporting. Pretty handy." 

"Please, come in."  
  
Dorjan was an intelligent, easy-going guy, somewhere in his thirties. The only word Buffy could use to describe him was cute. He had long, slightly shaggy black hair and a boyishly round face. His gray eyes usually twinkled in good humor, but turned a deadly shade of black when he used his magic. Buffy liked him, despite her suspicions that he wasn't entirely on the up and up. 

"So, blondie, what's up?" 

"You better sit down for this." 

Dorjan complied, and Buffy sat down across from him on the coffee table. It took her several seconds to compose her thoughts before she was prepared to lay the whole story in front of him. He listened carefully, never interrupting the flow of her narrative. He was fascinated by her story, the drama and the complexity, and the beauty of it. Dorjan would never admit it to anybody, but he was something of a romantic, and something about their doomed love really spoke to him. 

"So where do I come in?" Dorjan asked when she finally lapsed into silence. 

"I want to bring him back," Buffy stated simply. 

Dorjan whistled softly. "That's a pretty tall order. I can't even…"

"Resurrect his body, I know.  It's gone."

"There is something," Dorjan said slowly. "W&H has a spell to bring vampires back, but they come back as human. You'd have to turn him. That's how Darla came back."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No, I don't want to kill William again." 

  
He sighed, "I don't know if I can help you Buffy. I don't know if I _should_ help you." 

"I can understand that this seems like a bad idea, but I have to at least try." She looked at him with large, pleading green eyes. Dorjan cursed his weakness as a plan began to form. 

"What we need is vessel for Spike's soul, and his demon. Which means we need a body. It is possible to get William's dead body. I could, theoretically, pull it from the past right after he died but before he was sired." 

  
Buffy frowned, "Wouldn't that mean Spike never existed?" 

Dorjan nodded, "Kind of. It may be possible to make a copy of his body and then pull it from the past. It would be completely empty. Once we get it we could bring back his soul."  
  


"You could do that?" Buffy asked, incredulous. This was much more complicated than she had ever imagined. 

"I could try, but Buffy, I can't promise anything. A thousand things could go wrong."

"But it could go right to?" 

"Yeah, it could." 

"So, what do you need?" 

"Everything I need, I can get at W&H."

"Will that get you in trouble?"

"No, but if anybody says anything, I'll tell them I'm working with your authorization." 

Buffy frowned, "Why would you say that?"

"Because the boss man said that the whole LA branch of the firm is at your disposal." 

"Oh, right. I kinda forgot about that."

"Then why did you call me?"  
  


Buffy shrugged, "I thought I could ask you to do it as a favor." 

He chuckled softly. "Right. Anyway, give me a few days. At least two, if not three." 

  
Buffy nodded. "Ok, I can wait that long. Is there anything you need me to do?" 

"Do you have anything of his? Anything of his at all?" 

She shook her head. "It was all destroyed. He didn't own much anyway." 

"Maybe Angel has something," Dorjan muttered.

"No!" Buffy burst out. "I mean, uh, I don't want Angel to know."

"Why not?"  
  


"Because, I just don't."

"He's going to find out eventually, Buffy. This won't work unless we have a personal object of his. So if I were you, I'd figure something out." 

"Well, I guess I'll have to." 

"I'll call you tomorrow night and update you."  
  
She took a deep breath. She was actually doing this. She was actually going to mess with the whole universe, time, space, and other dimensions to bring Spike back. The thought overwhelmed her, and made her feel slightly sick. 

"Thanks for this." 

"If you change your mind, don't hesitate to call."

"I won't change my mind," Buffy stated resolutely. 

"Well good. At least you're sure." Dorjan stood up and Buffy followed him to the door. 

"Have a good night," Buffy said as he opened the door. 

He turned around, "You too. And Buffy? Get some sleep, you look like shit." 

Buffy shut the door behind him and felt, for the first time in a year, that sleep was actually possible. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Buffy woke up with a splitting headache. With every breath, it felt as though somebody was ramming ice picks into her eye sockets. She groaned, and then instantly regretted that she made any sound at all. 

_Right_, she thought, _Buffy and booze are not mixy things_. What had she done the night before? Fuck, she couldn't remember anything past the drinking, and the crying. The painkillers were just 10 feet down the hall, on the bathroom vanity. Which was about 9 feet six inches too far. 

_S'ok. I'll just stay in bed today. No reason why I have to get…Oh holy fuck!_ Despite the pain and the dizziness, Buffy bolted from bed, and ran down the hall. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet just as yesterday's meals spewed from her stomach. 

She shuddered and gasped, and collapsed against the toilet. She was far too weak to stand up, and so she knelt there for what felt like hours, trying to gather her strength. She had a few more dry-wretches, but her body was completely empty. 

_I'm never drinking again_, she silently vowed. _And I mean it this time_. Anything would have been better than this, including Cave!Buffy. _I'll just curl up here and die. That's a good plan_. 

When her stomach had settled, and her head hurt slightly less, Buffy dragged her way out of the bathroom, and used the vanity to brace herself as she stood up. With shaking hands, she unscrewed the cap of the Aspirin. She offered up a prayer to whoever watched over sick girls with hangovers that Aspirin would work before she dry swallowed three. She hesitated, and then gulped down a glass of water. 

Buffy stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Every movement reverberated through her head, causing constant shockwaves of pain. She was so lost in the momentum of her agony that she didn't notice her phonebook sitting out for nearly an hour. Then the black leather caught her eye. 

"Why is that out?" She mumbled. "That doesn't go there." 

She picked it up and examined it. Who did she call last night? Did she make drunken calls to her exes? No, that didn't sound right. Did she make drunken calls to her friends? No, because if she had, they would have come over and took the booze away from her. She glanced through the pages, hoping they would offer some clue. Finally she saw it. The number penciled in on the last page. 

"Oh," she breathed, "Oh god." Oh no, no, no, no. Wasn't that part just a dream? That part had to have been just a dream. Did she really call him? Did she really plead with him to bring Spike back? Oh no. Oh god. 

Buffy took a few deep breaths, her massive headache forgotten. It seemed so insignificant compared to the extremely massive stupidity she exhibited the night before. She would need to call Dorjan, and explain to him that it was just a mistake, she didn't mean it, and he didn't need to go through with it.  

She had to dial the number several times. Her pain may be forgotten, but her eyes were still far from focused and her hands were not completely responding to her commands. Finally, the correct numbers were dialed in the correct sequence, and the phone was answered after only a few rings. 

"Dorjan?"

"Yes? Is this Buffy?"

"Yeah, we need to talk."

"Oh, I'd love to, but I can't right now. I'll call you later." 

"But…"

"Later, Buffy."

_Click_.

Shit.

Buffy took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Dorjan wouldn't resurrect Spike if she asked him not to, right? If she absolutely had to, she could go over his head to Angel. Which was a cheap trick, but desperate times called for desperate measures. But it wouldn't come to that, she was sure of it. 

What could possibly possess her to ask a witch to bring back Spike? Other than a great deal of alcohol, an intense feeling of grief, and a desperate loneliness, what could possibly possess her? 

~*~

By six that night, Dawn was home, Buffy felt like a normal person again, and Dorjan hadn't called back.  Buffy tried to act as normal as possible, and not give away her extreme anxiety. Every time the phone rang, she jumped a foot and leapt for the receiver. And every time it was for Dawn. Twice she attempted to call him back, but the phone just rang and rang. Nobody answered, not even a machine or voice mail. 

Buffy knew something was very wrong. She felt it in her gut. The thought drove her to distraction. She wanted to go out and Slay, but she didn't do that anymore. She wanted to beat something up, but there was nothing left to kill. She was tempted to march down to the law firm itself and storm the offices until she found Dorjan and made it clear that the plan was definitely off. If she didn't hear from him by the next morning, she would do exactly that. 

Finally, just as she was prepared to go to bed, the call came. 

"Dorjan? What took you so long?"

"Sorry, Buffy, I had a major lead." Excitement was dripping from his words, and Buffy could tell he was hardly containing himself. 

"Look, about that…"  
  


"You don't need to talk to Angel if that's what is worrying you. I found a loophole." 

"Dorjan, I appreciate all of your hard work. I do. But I've changed my mind."

Dead silence stretched across the city through the phone lines. 

"Dorjan? Are you still there?"

"What? You've changed your mind?" 

Buffy swallowed, hard. His voice had changed, and now carried a distinct quality of menace. "I was drunk last night," she tried to explain, "I was out of my mind with grief." 

"Do you know how hard I worked today?"

"No," Buffy admitted. "But I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen." 

"It's too late Buffy."  
  


"What? What does that mean? Too late for what?" Panic made her voice climb an octave. 

"I'm making it happen tonight. It was so much easier than I thought it would be." 

"Dorjan, you cannot do this. Please, it's wrong. I'm sorry for all the hard work you did today, but _please_." 

"It's too late," he repeated.

"You should have called me back! You should have talked to me this morning when I called you. This is your fault." 

Buffy could hear the shrug. "You shouldn't have made a deal with a man you don't know." And for the second time that day, he hung up on her. 

She lost no time getting dressed and rushing out the door. 

"Where are you going?" Dawn shouted after her. 

"Emergency!" Buffy shouted over her shoulder as she slammed the door behind her. She ran down the stairs, fumbling with her keys. Her hands felt numb, her heart hammered in her ears. A part of her was breathless with excitement, but most of her was absolutely horrified what she had done. 

"I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath, "I'm so sorry Spike. God, please let me get there in time."

Buffy knew there was a chance that the spell wouldn't work at all, but she couldn't count on that. Dorjan had sounded so excited on the phone, so confident and cold. He definitely expected something to happen tonight.

She drove like a maniac through LA, careening blinding down the streets. She knew the route well, and she didn't have to give it a second thought. She could have driven those streets blindfolded. Dorjan's words echoed through her ears. 

It was the wail of the police siren that pulled her out of her thoughts. "Fuck!" She shouted as she pulled to the ride side of the road. "Don't let him stop, don't let him stop, don't let him stop…" He stopped directly behind her. 

"Good evening ma'am, do you have any idea how fast you were going?"

  
Buffy shook her head numbly, precious seconds slipping through her fingers as the police officer droned on. 

"Is there an emergency, ma'am?"

"Yes!" Buffy exclaimed, maybe too loudly. "A huge, big, horrible emergency. It's my boyfriend…he's…dead." 

_Good, good, that was good._

The officer frowned. "Dead?" 

Buffy nodded frantically. "Dead. Or dying. All I know is that I need to get to him." 

"Well? Which is it? Dead or dying?"

"I don't know! Please, officer, I'm sorry."

"I have to give you a ticket, you were going 50 in a 35 zone." 

"Ok, yes, that's fine." 

"Can I see your license and registration?" 

  
Buffy rummaged through her purse and her glove box until she found the requested documents and handed them to him. 

"Looks like your license is expired." 

"What?" Buffy gasped. "No, it expires on my 25th birthday. I still have two years to go." 

"That's not what this says. It says it expired at the beginning of this month. Can you step out of the car Miss Summers?"

Buffy calmly and slowly opened the door and left the car. She hadn't used her Slayer strength in a few months, but she still had it. "Sorry," she mumbled, before pulling back and letting fly with a punch right to the nose. Her fist connected solidly with his face, and he stumbled back a few steps before dropping to the ground, unconscious. 

She dragged him to his car and locked him in. Hopefully, that would keep him safe. She knew she would be totally fucked in the morning. He knew what she looked like and her name. But all that mattered was getting to Wolfram and Hart, and she still had 5 blocks to go. 

She sped those final blocks, keeping an eye out for policeman this time. Angel had given her a special, reserved spot on the top floor of the parking garage, and she was out of the car before the engine was even off. It was only then that she realized she had absolutely no idea where to find Dorjan, or if he was even at the law firm. 

Buffy knew her best bet would be to go directly to Angel. She knew him well enough to know that he would still be in his office. But if she went to him, she would have to explain the whole thing, and she didn't want to do that. She didn't know if she could do that. "Hey Angel, I went behind your back to one of your evil witches to ask him if he would resurrect Spike! So, what's new with you?" 

If she couldn't go to Angel, who could she go to? Fred? No, Fred probably wasn't there. She wasn't really friendly when any of Angel's gang, and none of them would have any reason to help her. Except maybe Wesley. Perhaps he still had a bit of Watcher in him? And what Watcher could turn down a Slayer in need? 

She made a bee-line to Wes's office. Well, it wasn't really an office. It was more like a small apartment. He kept a change of clothes there, a couch, and most of his weapons. Sometimes he spent the night there, and Buffy fervently hoped this was one of those nights.  

Buffy knocked on the door and nearly cheered when Wesley's gruff voice answered. "Who is it?"

"Wesley? It's me, Buffy. I need your help." 

She could hear him moving about, and, was he talking to somebody? Oh god, it never occurred to her that he would be in there with somebody. He flung the door open. "What is it? Is someone hurt?"

"No, no not yet. Wes, I did something really, really stupid." 

"You sure did, little girl," Lilah drawled from behind Wes. "What did you talk Drojan into doing?"

"Nothing," Buffy insisted. "I told him to stop. I told him I didn't mean it. He wouldn't listen to me." 

"Stop what?" Wes asked. 

"She's bringing back her lover," Lilah answered. "And he's using some pretty dark magic to make it happen." 

"Do you know where he's at? Please, I need to stop him." 

Lilah nodded. "Follow me." 

She led them down the hall and to the elevator. "Does Angel know?" Wes asked once the doors closed behind them.

"No," Buffy answered, "And I don't want him to. I asked Drojan for help last night, but I was drunk and not thinking clearly. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen to me." 

"Drojan doesn't listen to anybody. If he agreed to help you, he had ulterior motives."  
  


"What possible motives could he have to bring back Spike?"

"The rush," Wesley said softly. "He's doing it for the rush. It's an incredible power trip, that kind of magic. Nobody as powerful as Drojan could resist it." 

For a moment, Buffy's knees were weak. Did she finally have her answer to the question that had plagued her for the past three years? Did Wes just unwittingly tell her what, exactly, had possessed Willow to bring her back? No, Wes didn't inform her of anything, just confirmed what she already knew.

"I can feel it," Lilah said. "We're too late."

"How much longer?"

"We're here." The doors slid open and Buffy braced herself to see something horrible, but it was just an empty hallway. "Last room on the left." 

Buffy sprinted, Wesley following quickly at her heels, and Lilah walked behind them sedately. It took all of Buffy's considerable strength to force the heavy door open. 

"You're too late," Lilah repeated just as the door fell open. Lilah's words were drowned out by Drojan's ecstatic shout of victory. "I did it!" 

His shout was followed by a loud clap of what sounded like thunder. Buffy was just in time to see Drojan fly across the room just as a naked body appeared on the table in the middle of the room. 

"Wesley, take care of Drojan!" Buffy shouted as she rushed to the table. They weren't too late. He just had the body, not Spike's soul. It would be ok. 

The body stretched before her was pale and thin, his lips blue. Sandy brown curls fell into the ashen, taunt face. Buffy's heart leapt to her throat. It looked like Spike.  She was going to lose him again. 

"Oh, Spike, I'm so sorry," she whispered. She leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the body's lips, just as he opened his eyes. 

"Miss?"   
  
Buffy jumped back. "Spike?" 

He shook his head. His voice was hardly a whisper, and Buffy could only hear him due to her proximity to him. "Who?" 

Oh. God. "William?" 

He nodded before his eyes fluttered shut. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

William was alive. Alive was William. William was not dead. William was unconscious. William was alive. No matter how many times Buffy repeated the words, they didn't make sense. She knew what each word meant individually, but put together in that order, they made no sense. 

"What was that?" Angel asked, bursting into the room, fangs bared. He paused to take in the tableaux before him. "What is going on?" 

Nobody talked, nobody knew where to start. 

"Well?" Angel asked. 

"Dorjan is unconscious," Wes announced. "We should get him out of here."  
  


"Before  I kill him," Buffy muttered.  

"Dorjan? What's going on here?" Angel demanded. "Lilah? Did you have anything to do with this?"

"Not me, Boss." 

Angel crossed the room to the table. "Who is this? Oh God. Buffy?" 

"It's not Spike," Buffy explained. "It's William."   
  


Angel hesitantly reached out and brushed a curl off of William's forehead. "I know who it is. How did he get here?"

"I'm taking him," Wesley gestured to the witch, "upstairs. I'll bring some clothes back for—our guest."

  
Buffy nodded, then turned her attention back to the prone body before her. "Dorjan said we could bring Spike back, we just needed a body," she explained, tonelessly, "he said he could get a copy of William's dead body."

"When?" Angel didn't sound angry, yet. 

"We talked last night. When I woke up this morning, I changed my mind. I tried to get him to stop, I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. I got here too late." 

"So you weren't expecting…this?"  
  


Buffy shook her head. She just couldn't look away from William. "What are we going to do with him? He's here now."   
  


"It's going to be really hard on him, Buffy, we might want to consider sending him back." 

"We can't, Angel. We don't know what exactly Dorjan did, but I know what he said—he was making a _replica_ of the body."  
  
Angel sighed, "I guess somebody here can take care of him."

"You're just going to pass him off to some stranger?" 

"Buffy, he's going to need a lot of care…"

"Look, we'll talk about it later. Right now we need to get him some help. Look at his neck. Dorjan pulled him forth right before he died." 

"I'll call a doctor…"

"Already done," Lilah said. "I called him while you two were gabbing." 

As if one cue, a squat, gray old man appeared at the door. Without a word, he bustled over to William's side and started to check him out. 

"What did you do to this young man?" 

"Nothing," Buffy said quickly.

"You're lucky he is still alive. He's lost a lot of blood. I'm going to have to take him to the lab." 

"How long until he's better?" 

The doctor shrugged. "Do I look like a psychic?"

"I'll carry him to the lab," Angel announced. "Can we wait until Wes comes back with the clothes?" 

The doctor shook his head, "No, we need to get him down there right away." 

Angel effortlessly lifted William's naked body and followed the doctor out the door. Buffy followed Angel closely, guilt and fear making her loath to let William out of her sight, even for a moment. She just could not get over how _frail_ he looked. She had seen Spike naked before, seen him beat up, seen him abused, burnt, insane, and vulnerable. But she had never seen him look _frail_. 

Buffy understood that the man Angel was carrying wasn't Spike, not entirely. But he was the core of Spike. He shared Spike's body. She just could not wrap her mind around the paradox. He was Spike, and yet, he wasn't Spike. He _was_ a very human, very weak, very sick man, who would be very confused as soon as he was well enough to open his eyes. 

And once he healed, then what? Could she really allow Angel to just pass him off to some stranger? It made a lot of practical sense. Buffy didn't have the time required to take care of him and introduce him to the world. She didn't really have the room for him in her apartment, and she certainly didn't have the money to feed and clothe him. Buffy was comfortable, but far from well off, and only because of very careful budgeting. It would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to fit William into her life. 

But morally, she had a duty to him, and she knew it. He wouldn't be in this strange, new world if it weren't for her drunken mistake. He wouldn't be all alone amongst a group of strangers, in a place he couldn't possibly imagine, far from his friends and family. She could not, in good conscience, leave him at Wolfram and Hart without a second thought. She owed him more than that. 

Nobody spoke until William was safely deposited on a hospital bed. _This place really has everything,_ Buffy thought idly. As soon as Angel stepped back from the bed, the doctor immediately hooked William up to two IVs, and then bandaged his neck. Buffy watched silently until the old man was done fussing with his patient. 

"He should be OK." The doctor announced. "He'll need to stay here for at least another 24 hours, if not more."

"Thank you, Doctor—"

"Roberts. You guys should clear out now."   
  
Dr. Roberts herded them out of the room, and shut the door behind them. 

"So? What are you going to do now?" Angel asked. 

"I'm going to go home, and talk to Dawn. Then I'm going to go to bed because I have to work tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon I'll fix up a place for William, and come get him tomorrow night." 

"What? Buffy, you can't take him home with you."

"I have to!"

"He's not a pet, Buffy! You can't afford to take care of him."

"I can't afford to leave him here, either. He's going to need a _friend_ when he wakes up, not a babysitter." 

"Buffy, don't think I don't know what you are doing."

"What am I doing?"

"You can't have Spike, so you're taking the next best thing."

"That's not true at all," she exclaimed. "It's _my_ fault he's here. He's my responsibility." 

"You aren't thinking clearly, is all I'm trying to say." 

"Angel, I don't want to fight with you about this. It's not your decision." 

"Buffy, you have no idea what he's going to need…"

"I'm not stupid Angel, I'm sure I can figure out what a grown man needs." She paused and grimaced. "That came out wrong." 

"What's he going to do, Buffy? Sleep on the couch?"

"I'll think of something. Look, I've got to get home. I'll be back tomorrow. Oh, and Angel? I got pulled over tonight."

"Yeah?"

"For speeding, and he said my license was expired."

"Is it?"  
  
"No! I think Dorjan did something to my license." 

"You want me to check it out?"  
  
"Could you?" 

"Yeah, I'll be taking care of Dorjan…" 

Buffy left Angel standing outside William's room, and slowly made her way to the parking garage. She still hadn't fully processed all of the events of the past 24 hours. Understanding in an abstract way that it would be difficult to help William was one thing, but actually re-working her entire life to accommodate him was another thing all together. And how could she possibly explain this whole mess Dawn. 

During the long, slow, _careful_ drive home, Buffy carefully rehearsed exactly how she would explain the situation to Dawn. She figured Dawn would be fairly understanding and adult about the whole thing—well, she hoped so anyway. The last thing she needed was for Dawn to go fucking ballistic on her, or get all judgmental and whiny. In order for this to work, she would need Dawn's full support. 

_Dawn, you ever wonder who Spike was before he was a vampire? Dawn, you know what would be fun? Inviting a strange man to live with us! _and _Dawn, would you be willing to share your bedroom _were also bad ideas. How do you explain to your little sister, the girl that you are supposed to raise, that you got drunk off your ass and raised the dead? Or at least, tried to? So much for setting a good example. 

She also had to plan the living arrangements. It made the most sense to give William her bed and take the couch for the time being. It wouldn't do to make her ill, displaced guest sleep on the hard, unforgiving, second-hand sofa. She'd have to shopping for clothes and figure out what he liked to eat. 

Dawn was waiting up for her when Buffy finally opened her front door. "  
  


"What are you still doing up?"

"Waiting for you. Where have you been?"

Buffy sighed, "It's a long story. I'll simplify it as much as possible. I tried to bring back Spike. I got William instead. He's sick and staying at W&H tonight, and I'm bringing him here tomorrow." There, that wasn't so bad. 

Dawn blinked. "You tried to bring back Spike?"

She shrugged. "I was told it was possible."

"And instead you brought back the man Spike was before he died?" 

"Right."

"And he's going to live here?" 

"Uh huh." 

"I'm…I'm going to bed."

"Dawn, don't you want to talk about this?"

"I'm tired. We can talk tomorrow." 

"We need to make plans though, and I need your…"

"Do what you want Buffy, just don't mess with my room." 

Buffy frowned at Dawn's back. Ok, maybe it wasn't the best decision she had ever made, but would it kill her to offer a bit of support and understanding? She collapsed onto the sofa, too exhausted to even make it to her own bed. She could only hope that when she woke up the next morning, the events of the past 24 hours would be nothing more than the figments of a bad dream. 

~*~

William felt horrible. There wasn't a part of his body that didn't ache. His neck throbbed, his head throbbed, his mouth felt like it was full of sand, and he couldn't swallow. He wiggled his fingers and his toes. Good, they were still attached to his body. 

Where was he? He vaguely recalled seeing a woman, a strange blonde woman, standing over him. He didn't remember much other than that. He knew that he had been at a party, and that he left, and ran into a rather stunning creature. But that was the extent of his ability to recall what happened. 

He wanted to die. At least if he died, the pain would stop. Had he been mugged? That was a distinct possibility; he knew that there had been a rash of crimes in his area of London. If that was the case, then he was lucky he was still alive. 

A deep fear, something unnamable and indescribable, forced William to keep his eyes screwed tightly shut. A part of him knew that when he did open his eyes, it would be painful and frightening, and change his life completely. It was the blonde woman, the one that called him Spike, that had terrified him so. She was different from anything he had ever seen before. 

Unfortunately, his innate curiosity eventually got the best of him. With a Herculean effort, William forced his heavy eyelids opened. And instantly regretted it. The world around him was beyond anything he could imagine. Bright lamp—candles?—shown in his eyes,  some sort of machines surrounded him, and there were needles sticking out of his arm. He focused his attention on the room, and finally heard the steady rhythm of the heart monitor and the constant whir of dozens of machines surrounding him. Sounds he had no name for, coming from objects he had never seen before. 

The scream started in the back of this throat and built until it burst from his mouth, high-pitched and blood-curdling. He didn't want to scream, and even as the awful sound was coming from him, he cursed himself as a coward. A real man would not scream like a girl, regardless of how bizarre things were. A real man would take stock of the situation, form a plan of action, and get out of the predicament. Though a part of William knew this, the rest of him could not stop screaming. 

Unfamiliar people rushed to his side. Three men and a woman. Something about the tallest man scared him more than anything ever had before in his life. Scared him more than the room, and the weird sounds, and the aches and pains that increased with the volume of his anguished shouts. 

"Can you calm him down?" The tall man shouted. William barely heard him though. Now that the shouting had morphed into full hysterics, and far from making him feel better, it only terrified him more. 

"Yes, yes," an older man said. "Hold him." 

They grabbed his thrashing limbs and forced him to down onto the bed. Angel and Wes easily kept him still, but William did not stop struggling to break free from his captors. Every instinct in his body was telling him to run, and the accompanying adrenalin rush made him completely forget his previous agony. 

"William, hold still!" 

The words didn't penetrate the fog that had surrounded his brain. Then suddenly, the horrible screaming stopped. No more sound came from William's throat. He looked up at Angel with wide, angry blue eyes, and Angel sucked in air sharply. For just a brief second, he looked like Spike. Then the blue eyes dimmed, the eyelids fell shut, and William slumped in the bed. 

"What the hell was all that about?" Angel asked, more shaken up by the whole episode than he would ever like to admit. 

"He fell asleep in Victorian London and woke up here, Angel. It's no surprise that he was shocked," Wesley said calmly. 

"He didn't sound shocked. He sounded hysterical."

"Well, now the question is, how do we keep him from freaking out again?" 

"One of us will have to stay with him," Angel suggested. "And since I know…knew…him, I guess I will." 

"Are you sure that's wise Angel? He started screaming louder when he saw your beefy head," Lilah observed.

"Do you want to stay with him?" Angel asked. 

She held up her hands in mock surrender, "Not me Boss." 

"I gave him a large dose," Dr. Roberts said. "He should be out for quite awhile. Enough time to give you an idea of what you want to do with him, at least."

"Well, that's something. I can't let Buffy take him though until I'm sure he won't go crazy," Angel announced. Nobody argued with him. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

  
Buffy was distracted by thoughts of William all day. After lunch, she claimed she had a killer headache, and asked if she could please get the rest of the day off. Mr. Smith was more than happy to give a half day to his "favorite employee" and even offered to pay her for a full day. For the millionth time, she thanked her lucky stars she that she found such a nice, understanding person to work for.

Buffy stopped at Wal-Mart on the way home. She needed to pick up some extra food, and stuff for William. She didn't know what, exactly, William would need, but she was sure she could figure it out as she shopped. She wandered up and down the aisles, doing her best to dodge screaming children and women who randomly pushed their carts around, heedless of any human obstacles in front of them. She masterfully negotiated through the maze of products she didn't need, until she reached the beauty and hygiene section. 

He would need razors, right? She certainly couldn't share her razors with him. And he would need a toothbrush, shampoo, clothes…the more Buffy thought about it, the more overwhelmed she felt. Finally she just resorted to randomly throwing objects into the cart. She could bring anything back that she didn't need. 

After she got home, she spent the rest of the afternoon preparing her bedroom for William and cleaning the house. She did so half-heartedly, her mind a million miles away. Images of William and Spike whirled in front of her eyes. William. Spike. Spike. William. Buffy could remember exactly what William looked like the night before, down to the last detail. He _was_ Spike, but at the same time, he wasn't. The paradox sent her head spinning, and she eventually decided it would be wise to not think about it at all. 

When Dawn got home, she mostly ignored Buffy and focused on her homework, but occasionally she would look up and glare at her sister. She didn't bother offering to help Buffy clean the house, and didn't make a move to get up when Buffy reminded her it was her turn to make dinner. Buffy was picking up distinct vibes of resentment and anger from her sister, but she didn't understand why. She didn't have time to talk to Dawn about it though.

"Are you going to get him now?" Dawn asked coolly when Buffy grabbed her purse and her keys.

"I am." 

"I'm going to Lisa's house."

"Dawn, you can't go out. It's a school night."

"I don't want to be here when you get back."

"Dawn, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I…you know what? Forget about it, you wouldn't understand anyway." 

"Well, make understand then," Buffy invited. 

"I'm out of here. I'm spending the night at her place."

"Dawn you…" the door slammed hard enough to shake the pictures on the wall, "can't. Shit." 

Buffy was honestly perplexed by Dawn's reaction, but she knew chasing after her wouldn't do any good. Dawn was notoriously mule-headed and there would be no talking until Dawn was ready. 

~*~

Angel simply did not know what to do with this human, drugged to the gills, looking like Spike, passing in and out of consciousness, screaming, mumbling about his mother, reciting poetry, and crying. What does one do in these situations? He didn't trust anybody else to sit up with William, but he certainly didn't want to spend more minute dealing with this particular brand of insanity. 

The bite on his neck wasn't healing, and this concerned Dr. Roberts greatly. A small trickle of blood leaked out of the punctures, and it refused to scab over. Angel had to change the bandage every hour, and each time, the potent elixir of William's blood—fear and confusion-- made his head spin and his eyes water. He just wanted one little taste. It didn't help that he could still smell Drusilla all over the bite mark. The smell transported him back to the night William was turned—what a disaster that was. 

Drusilla knew how to turn vampires, and did so on a regular basis. The problem was, Drusilla got distracted from William after only giving him a sip of blood. Enough to make him hungry. He started thrashing around in the ally, desperate for more blood, Dru started screaming and attracting attention, blood got everywhere, and Darla was pissed. Angelus did his best to quiet everybody down before the police showed up, but Dru didn't want to leave her new prize behind. She started sobbing wildly and tearing and Angelus to escape him. Finally he let her go, fed William from his own wrist, then quickly found a place for all of them to hole up for a few days.

Now the young man that he molded into a vampire over a century ago was in his office, and, not for the first time, Angel cursed his luck. He didn't want to know the man behind the monster. He didn't want a first row seat to see the kind of person Spike really was, to see the kind of person he could have become if he had never met Drusilla. William would be yet another constant reminder of what an animal Angelus was. 

~*~

William's world tilted and whirled, full of bleeding colors, disembodied voices, and smirking faces. He was in two worlds at once, aware of the people moving around his body, and unable to escape the demons in his mind. Events, people, conversations, dreams, all blended together until he didn't know what was real and what was not. He didn't care either. 

There were two images, however, that remained crystal clear, even if he couldn't place who they were or how he knew them; the dark haired beauty he met in the ally, and the blonde who called him Spike. They floated in and out of his mind in harsh clarity, and he felt as though he could remember every single detail of their faces. 

The pain was still there, but it was as distant as his memories. It lingered, but William could disassociate himself from it. He could examine it, turn it over in his hands, toss it aside, and move on. It felt odd to consider the pain to be a truly solid object to be thrown away, but in William's delirium it made perfect sense. 

One thing that could not be tossed aside was the fear. Despite the heavy use of tranquilizers, William had not calmed down. In fact, the screams of terror lurked just below the surface. It was _her _voice that finally pulled him out of his haze,  and pushed the terror back. 

~*~

"What the hell did you do to him?" Buffy demanded.

"We gave him some tranquilizers, Buffy, we had to." 

"He looks horrible. Is he sick? I thought the doctor was going to make him better."

"He looks better than he did last night. But we can't get the bite to stop bleeding." 

"Why did you have to give him tranquilizers?"

"Every time he woke up, he went hysterical," Angel explained. "He must have been afraid." 

"Well, wouldn't you be?" 

"Are you really going to take him home with you tonight? I still don't think that's a good idea."

"If I leave him here, you guys will just dope him up. I can help him." William stirred as she spoke, and she placed a reassuring hand on his forehead. "He needs me." 

"Buffy, he isn't Spike."  
  


"Well, thank you for reminding me again, Angel. What would I do without you? Let's get him to my car before he wakes up."  
  


"And what if he wakes up while he's in the car? How are you going to control him and drive at the same time?" 

Buffy sighed and collapsed on the chair next to the bed. "Angel, I don't get it. I don't get why you are so upset, and I don't get why Dawn is so angry with me. I know this is my fault, ok? My mistake, I get it. Buffy messed up big time. I'm trying to fix it, and all I get is grief." 

"What's wrong with Dawn?"

"I don't know. She's furious with me. Won't even talk to me. Can you just help me out please?" 

Angel understood that there was no point in arguing with her anymore. He stated his opinion, and she chose to ignore it. Which is usually how it worked between them. There really wasn't anything else he could say. 

They worked together silently to get William out of bed, and then Angel carried him down to her car. 

"Where's he going to sleep?" 

"In my bed," Buffy answered. "I'm taking the couch for now." 

Angel deposited William in the backseat, and Buffy made sure he was buckled in. "Do you want me to come with you?" 

"No, I think I've got everything under control." 

"If you're sure. Call me if you need anything."

"I will," Buffy promised. 

"And Buffy? Be careful." 

"I will, I will."

The ride home passed without incident, and Buffy got William up to bed without too much trouble. He remained mostly asleep the whole time, though more than once he woke up to mumble words that didn't even make sense. Buffy sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep, unable to look away. 

He wasn't quite as pale anymore, and his cheeks had the rosy kiss of life. It was slightly disconcerting to see Spike's face look well and truly alive, to see him breathing, to see his hair its natural shade of honey-brown. She felt as though she could study him for hours, comparing and contrasting him to the demon she once knew. 

It was while Buffy was gazing longingly at William for something he didn't have that he woke up. The shout that was dancing at the tip of his tongue dried up on his lips at the sight of her. She looked so…lost. Like she was missing something more valuable than any diamond, and there was no hope in finding it. Poems. He wanted to write poems for her, to make her happy, to help her find what she had lost. 

William didn't dare open his mouth. He didn't dare move or speak at all, afraid that this spell would be broken, and the paralyzing fear would come back. Who was she? Did she even see him? She was looking directly at him, and yet, she didn't give any indication that she saw him at all. So, William let her stare unseeingly at him, while he began the slow, tedious process of piecing together his broken thoughts. 

  
He still couldn't remember everything clearly, but he had the feeling that for now, it was best that he couldn't. There were still unfamiliar sounds surrounding him, and things he had never seen before, but for the first time since he woke up the night before, he felt like he had a bit of control over himself. As long as he just took it one breath at a time, he could hold things together. 

When he finally felt ready, he opened his mouth. No sounds came out, so he closed it. He opened it again, and again, so stray screams crept from the back of his throat. This was good. This meant that he would be able to talk sooner, rather than later. Finally, gathering his nerve, he opened his mouth for a third time. "Miss?" 

Buffy's eyes focused. "Oh, you're awake," she exclaimed. "How do you feel? Do you need anything? Feel free to ask. Does your neck hurt? Do you want me to change your bandages?"  
  
William was slightly taken aback from her excitement and babbling. "Um, I'm fine Miss?"  
  


"Buffy Summers. Call me Buffy." 

He smiled shyly than introduced himself as William Smith. Buffy could tell he would have liked to say more, but he looked very tired and his eyes darted around nervously. 

"William, I know you're scared. I would be too, in your situation. But it looks like you need more to adjust." She stood up. "I'm just going to go get something…"  
  
William grabbed her hand, weakly. "No! I mean, can you stay? Please?" 

"Yeah, I can stay. No problem."

"Where…where am I?"

Buffy sighed, "William, it's a very long story. I think maybe I should wait until you're a bit stronger before I tell you." 

William thought that about silently for several seconds. Buffy wisely kept her mouth shut as he worked through his thoughts. "I think I would like to know," he finally said. 

"You're in my apartment, in Los Angeles, California. In America."

"I'm in America? Are there any cowboys or outlaws?" He sounded almost eager. 

She smiled, "Not the kind you're thinking of. William, you are in the year 2004." 

The announcement was met with shocked silence as he tried to process the news. "I think…I think I would like some time alone," he finally mumbled. 

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. 

"That's fine. I'm just in the next room, call me if you need anything." 

"I…I will." 

William leaned back on the bed, shaken to his core. He finally understood what was going on. Whatever happened at the party had driven him completely insane. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dawn came home early the next morning, before anybody woke up. The pre-dawn light painted the world a soft gray, and Dawn didn't bother turning on the lights. She quietly stepped through the apartment, careful not to disturb Buffy, who was sleeping on the couch. She didn't feel like dealing with Buffy at that point.  
  
She bypassed her room, and instead went into Buffy's. As she expected, William was there, also asleep. William. Spike. Buffy didn't understand, she didn't understand most things. She thought she was the only one who mourned Spike. She thought she was the only who lay awake at nights, thinking of things that should have been different. She thought she was the only one with regrets.  
  
Dawn resented Buffy, just a little. She had come to terms with Spike and what he meant to her. They had made their peace together and moved on. Dawn never had a chance for closure, never really had a chance to talk to him and maybe even forgive him. She had to live with that for the past year, with the knowledge that she lost her best friend twice. And it took a year to deal with that, to allow those wounds to scab over and begin to finally heal.  
  
So what does Buffy do? She tries to drag him back when Dawn was finally ready to put the past behind her. How could she be so selfish? And now there was this…man…this person she didn't know, sleeping in her house, with Spike's face. Dawn was used to weird shit happening to her. Weird shit defined her life. But how was she supposed to adjust to a twice dead man transported from 120 years ago sleeping in her sister's bed?  
  
Dawn had always meant to talk to Spike. Several times, he had attempted to talk to her. He would say her name, pause, cock his head, then say "never mind" and walk away. She never called after him, never approached him, but god, she always meant to. Dawn angrily wiped her tears away. She was finished crying over Spike, supposedly.  
  
The bandage on William's neck had come loose while he slept, and Dawn tentatively pushed it aside. He wasn't bleeding, the bandage was clean, but the bite mark looked angry and red. It would scar, no doubt. Spike had many scars, but none from Drusilla. Physical ones, at any rate.  
  
Dawn pulled up a chair beside the bed and perched on the edge. She didn't want to leave him, not yet. She needed to grow accustomed to seeing him, readjust her life around this new addition, and try to get her tumultuous emotions under control. She would just take a few more minutes, then get dressed and start her day.  
  
"He looks softer, doesn't he?" Buffy said quietly from behind her. Dawn didn't turn around, not even when Buffy placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Not when he's asleep," Dawn said. "He looks the same when he's asleep. Spike was almost peaceful when he slept."  
  
"The color is a bit off."  
  
"What else is different?" Dawn asked, almost inaudibly.  
  
"I don't know Dawn. Come in the kitchen and I'll make breakfast."  
  
Dawn grimaced, "Um, no thanks. I'll make breakfast."  
  
"Oh, come on. It's not that bad."  
  
"Yes, Buffy, it is that bad."  
  
They girls exited the bedroom, so absorbed in their bickering that they didn't notice William open his bright, blue eyes. He frowned and rolled over, his back to the door. Who was that other girl? It was highly inappropriate to be in his bedroom, especially when he was asleep. William didn't like that at all, and couldn't help the slight blush creeping over his cheeks.

He was only slightly surprised when he opened his eyes in the same bed he fell asleep in. William's final hope before he fell asleep was that he would wake up in his own bed, with the sound of the maid banging around the kitchen, and his mother singing hymns in the drawing room. Perhaps he would take his mother out to the park and read her some poetry. But those hopes were dashed when he felt the presence of the younger girl in his room, staring at him intently. 

William was in the habit of writing a few lines of poetry every morning, just as the sun came up. It was when he felt most inspired. The golden sun, the singing birds, the loud bustle of the streets below, conspired against him until words fairly poured from his pen. It was with a great deal of pain that he realized there were no words twirling and dancing around his head, just out of reach. Empty silence greeted him, and he had nothing. He tried to force a line about his beloved Cecily, but nothing came. He tried to force three simple words together, and three words, to describe something, anything. He didn't care, but nothing happened. 

This was not supposed to happen to him. Words were not supposed to die. How could he be stranded in a new time, a new place, a new continent, a new life, with no _words_? His hands clenched in desperation, and the emotions that were never far rose up, tears stung his eyes. Tears of desperation, not fear.  He wasn't afraid anymore; he knew things were completely, and utterly out of his control in every way. 

Buffy stuck her head into the room to see if William was awake, and immediately asked him what was wrong. She couldn't see his face, but it was clear, even to her,  from his body language that he was extremely distressed. He didn't respond, just took a deep, shaky breath. 

"William?" She repeated, "What's wrong?" _Stupid question_, Buffy thought. _What _isn't _wrong would be a better question_. 

"Nothing," he finally said, his voice tight. "Please, I just wish to be alone." 

"Ok William, just…if you need anything, I'm here to help."

"There is one thing, actually." William still didn't turn around, but his voice was more even now. "Do you have a paper and a pen? If it's not too much trouble?"

"Yeah, no problem. I'll be right back." 

Buffy frantically searched through the kitchen cabinets, looking for anything resembling paper. She came up empty handed. "How is this possible? What? We never use paper?" 

"What do you need paper for?" Dawn asked.

"William asked for some, I'm looking for a notebook that's not full or covered in strawberry jam." 

Dawn disappeared into her room and returned seconds later, triumphantly, with a red notebook and a pack of pens. "For his poems?" She asked. 

Buffy frowned, "How do you know he wrote…writes…poems?" 

"I knew—know—a lot of stuff about him, Buffy," Dawn said softly as she handed the notebook over. "He was my friend once too you know." 

Buffy looked slightly taken aback, as though she had completely forgotten Dawn's relationship with Spike. "Right, I know. It's just, he didn't talk much about his, you know, past." 

"He did when he was drunk." 

Buffy pursed her lips, temporarily annoyed at the thought of Dawn hanging out with Spike when he was drunk enough to spill embarrassing stories. 

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me like that. Those nights, they were long Buffy." 

"I know." They paused, both slightly uncomfortable as they were assaulted by memories best left buried. "I better get these to him," she finally said.

"Yeah. Anyway, I won't be home until late tonight." 

"Why?"

"Going to a party with some of my friends." 

"You're just telling me now? You don't bother to ask anymore."

"Buffy, I asked you last week."

"What did I say?"

"You said yes." 

"I'm going to take your word for it this time. Don't forget your curfew, or I'll send Angel after you."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Dawn stuck out her tongue, gathered up her books, and was gone. Buffy hesitated a moment, then decided to prepare William a tray. As far as she knew, he hadn't eaten once since arriving. Toast, orange juice, and an apple. Not much, but until she knew what he would eat, it was the best she could do. 

"Sorry, couldn't find a notebook…" she said as she returned to the bedroom. William had sat up, and was frowning down at himself disapprovingly. "What's up?"

"Oh nothing, it's just, well, I'm not very dressed." 

"What?"

He motioned to the t-shirt and shorts that he had been wearing for the past two days. "This is hardly appropriate attire." 

Buffy opened her mouth to tell him not to worry about it, it wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, but decided it wouldn't do to embarrass the poor man. "I'll look into getting you some more…um, appropriate attire. Anyway, I brought you some food." 

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that."

Buffy laughed, "Yeah, I kinda did. Otherwise you'll starve." 

He smiled shyly and accepted the tray from her. Their hands touched briefly, and William responded with a slight blush. "You're very kind." 

Buffy dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. "Do you mind if I sit down?" 

"No, no, not at all." 

"Feeling better now?" Buffy asked, concerned. He looked and sounded slightly better, but only slightly.

"No," he answered, surprising both of them with his honesty. 

"Oh…anything I can do?" _Let me help, let me make this better, let me rectify the situation, god, let me do something! _

"No, no. I'm just going to write."

"Oh, a poem?" 

William looked up, startled and Buffy could almost seem him retreat into a shell. "How did you know about my poems?" He asked carefully. 

_Damn_. She should have known better than to ask. Spike was hardly forthcoming with his poetic past, she had no reason to believe that William would want to share. 

"Does it have anything to do with this Spike gentleman everybody keeps mentioning?" William asked before she had time to answer. It was her turn to retreat. 

She swallowed hard; too shocked to even be amused that "gentleman" and "Spike" were used in conjunction. "Yes, it does."

"Who is he?" Honest curiosity in his voice. 

"William, I know this is a crazy question, but do you trust me?" 

His brow furrowed. "Yes," he answered earnestly, for a just a second, he reminded Buffy of an eager puppy. 

"Does the bite on your neck hurt?"

William put a tentative hand up to the bandage. "I hadn't even thought about it. But yes, it hurts slightly." 

"William, you're here because somebody used very powerful magic to pull you forward in time. If you hadn't been pulled forward, you would have been turned into a vampire." She carefully avoided mentioning her own involvement in the mess. 

"A vampire named Spike?" William asked, breathlessly. 

  
Buffy nodded. 

"But vampires aren't…"  
  
Buffy laughed, "Real? Of course they are. You've met one. Big guy, with hear that stick straight up."   
  


William frowned, "He scared me."  He looked up at Buffy, confusion shining clearly in his eyes. "This is all so hard to take in." 

"You seem to be handling things well."

"I feel a bit mad, actually. I thought I would write all of this, everything, down." 

"That might be a good idea. It'll keep you occupied for awhile at least." 

"This Spike…where is he?"  
  


"He died last year." 

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."  
  
Buffy stood up suddenly, startling William. "I'm sorry, I just can't…" She didn't finish her sentence, just hurried out of the room. 

William couldn't help but be hurt over her hasty departure. What had he said wrong? It was so hard to talk to women. The words never would come out right, and he always managed to make a fool out of himself. He tried to express himself to them in poems, but that never turned out well either. The bother was, he never could find the perfect word. It was always beyond his grasp. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Buffy wandered listlessly through the apartment for the rest of the day. She scrubbed her kitchen until it sparkled. She watched crappy soap operas, but avoided Passions. She rolled her eyes at Oprah, and she attempted to read a book. She thought about calling Giles. 

William stayed in his room, silent, scribbling away. Buffy brought him lunch, and he acknowledged her with a polite nod and a "thank you". She felt bad for avoiding him all day, feeling that he would probably want her company. But it was _hard_. She should really call Giles. 

Angel called once to make sure that William wasn't too much of a handful, and to ask her how she was handling everything. She assured him that she was fine, William was adjusting, and that she didn't need anything. Angel told her she should call Giles. 

But Giles wasn't exactly pleased with her. They were on speaking terms, but their relationship never fully recovered. The actual miles between them were easier to cross than the emotional distance. It was hard to completely forgive what she considered to betrayal, harder still to forget about it and move on. He attempted to comfort her over losing Spike, but the words were hollow, and somehow, it hurt more than if he had done nothing at all. 

She also had to call Willow and Xander, but not now. She didn't feel like dealing with them. And they would want to come over and see him, and the fewer people gawking at him, the better. They would want to ask her questions, demand to know what she was thinking, as if they couldn't understand. As if she was expected to learn from their mistakes. 

It was frightening how easy it was to completely drift away from them. True, they hadn't been as close as they once were the past few years, but now they barely talked at all. They were all busy piecing their lives back together, one dangerous shard at a time. Buffy wondered if she would have been so foolish, so desperate as to try to bring Spike back if she had more support from them.

Despite her newly formed acquaintances with Angel's friends, her reformed friendship with Angel, the constant presence of Dawn, and the contact with her coworkers, Buffy was extremely _lonely_. Being a slayer was a lonely job, by definition, but she wasn't the slayer anymore.  She didn't know that simply living a normal life was also a lonely job. So what had she done? Got horribly drunk and depressed and made the latest in a long line of mistakes. 

And the result of that mistake was just a few feet from her; shy, skittish, alone, and silent. As the afternoon rolled into evening, she gave up. There was no reason for her to sulk in the living room, huddled on the couch around a bowl of popcorn, morosely watching the news as her thoughts jumped around the past problems and current problems and stupid mistakes and new friends and old friends. 

"William?" Buffy called as she opened the door. "You doing ok in here?"

"Yes, I'm good."

"Are you feeling strong enough to get out of bed?"

"I…I believe so. Why?"

"I thought I could cook us dinner? Maybe we can eat at the table—if you're feeling up to it, that is." 

"Oh, well, that would be very nice. Thank you. But, I fear I'm not dressed properly for dinner." 

"Oh, of course. Um, I think I might have something for you to wear. Will you need help, you know, getting dressed?"

William's face turned bright red. "No, no," he stumbled, "I think I can manage quite well, thank you." 

Buffy smiled, then rifled through the plastic bags in the hall closet that Angel and given her when she picked up William. She triumphantly found a pair of pants and a button shirt that looked like it would fit him. 

"Go ahead and take your time getting dressed," Buffy said as she handed the bundle to him. "It'll take me awhile to make dinner."  
  


"I'll be right out," he promised. 

Feeling better already, Buffy set about planning dinner. There just wasn't much food in the house. Well, not food she would serve to a guest at any rate. But then, wasn't Victorian food supposed to be totally nasty? Maybe even Buffy's limited culinary ability would be seen as an improvement in William's eyes. Well, she could hope at any rate. 

She was viciously attacking the onions when she heard a loud crash, followed by a yelp of pain. Without giving it a second though, she ran into the bedroom, visions of blood and broken bones filling her mind. He was fragile, unlike Spike he could be broken. Buffy found him on the other side of the bed in a jumble of clothes and blankets, blinking his eyes with a rather dazed expression on his face.

"Are you ok? Did you hurt yourself? What happened?" Buffy asked as she began to untangle him.

"I believe my foot got caught in the sheet. I guess it tripped me. Do not worry, I'm fine." 

Buffy pushed the rest of the sheets away, and pulled him to his feet. He attempted to protest, but she ignored him. She intently searched his body for new bruises or injuries, but she didn't find anything other than the odd scrape. She did notice, however, that his body wasn't nearly as taunt or muscled as Spike's had been. She also noticed that William was a bright purple color from his neck to the roots of his sandy hair. 

"Oh, William, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just wanted to make sure you're not hurt." 

"It's quite alright," he said tightly, but he was completely unable to look in her eyes, and he seemed frozen. 

Still apologizing, she backed out of the room and firmly shut the door. She was blushing herself, feeling stupid for over-reacting and making him so incredibly uncomfortable. She wouldn't be surprised if he chose to just stay in his room, and avoid the psycho who didn't respect his personal space. 

Buffy returned to her onions, and then moved on to the potatoes. But the excitement was gone, and now it seemed more like a pointless chore. He wouldn't want to eat with her, and if he _did_, it would be awkward. Maybe Angel was right, maybe she was taking on more than she could chew. 

Finally, the simple dinner of chicken, potatoes, and peas was completed and ready to serve. She debated over putting candles on the table, just to look nice. She finally decided to put them on the table but not to light them. A detached part of her realized that she was worrying and fretting as though this was a first date. Which was extremely silly, and probably just a reflection of her loneliness. 

She knocked on his door gently, and announced that if he wanted to come out, dinner was ready. 

"I'll be right out," came William's muffled reply. 

Pleased, Buffy returned to the table and finished dishing up the meal. By the time he made an appearance, his plate was full, and Buffy had decided maybe she should light the candles. 

"It looks lovely," William complimented. 

"Thank you. I didn't know what you would like, so I just…" 

He smiled and held her seat out for her, silently indicating she should sit. Buffy did so with a small smile of her own, not really surprised by the display of his manners. He looked a bit better dressed, and he was back to his usual color, and he didn't appear to upset with her.

"The candles are nice," he said, the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I thought it would a good touch," Buffy explained. 

They both tried a few bites of the meal, and Buffy was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was actually edible. Despite the fact that Buffy had successfully cooked holiday meals before, her everyday culinary abilities were still lacking. William seemed pleased with the food, and after a few small, polite bites, he really dug in. His appetite was voracious, and he didn't have any idea how hungry he was until he took his first bite of chicken. 

They didn't speak until after he finished the chicken and the potatoes. 

"I want to thank you for earlier."

"What?"  
  


"For checking on me when I tripped. I made an awful ruckus, it must have frightened you."

"I was worried," Buffy admitted, confused. He had seemed so embarrassed that she didn't expect him to _thank_ her. 

"I won't be so clumsy in the future. Though, I have always been rather clumsy."

_Clumsy? Must have been something he outgrew_, Buffy thought. "It's ok, I think we're all a bit of a spaz at times. Plus you know, I bet things are a bit disorienting right now."

"They are. I'm having a hard time adjusting. But I think writing about it helped a great deal. I was able to sort my thoughts." 

Buffy wasn't entirely surprised that William was adjusting without any major problems. Spike was always able to mold himself to his surroundings. He was very resilient, and at his core, a survivor. It was obviously a trait completely innate. 

"Do you have enough food? Would you like more?"

"If it's not too much trouble. This really is quite delicious." 

"Be sure to tell Dawn that," Buffy said wryly. "She's convinced that I can't boil water."

"Dawn is the young lady who was in my room this morning."

Buffy nodded. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know she would do that. I'll talk to her about it when she gets home." 

"Is she your sister?"

"Yes, she's a few years younger than me. School will be out soon, so she'll be home more in the future. Do you have a sister?"  
  


"Me? No, no, I was an only child. My father died when I was quite young. It was just me and my mother…oh god." He looked up at Buffy, stricken. "Who will take care of my mother now that I'm gone?" 

Buffy placed a comforting hand on his, remembering the story Spike had told her after the incident with Wood. She knew that it was very likely that his mother was already dead. Struggling to keep her voice neutral, she assured William that his mother would be taken care of. 

"You don't understand," he insisted, "she's sick. She's very sick. She's been ill for some time." 

"My mom was sick too," Buffy offered softly. "I took care of her, or, I tried to. I know how you feel." 

"Oh, Miss….Buffy. I'm sorry. Did she pass away?"

Buffy swallowed. "She did, but that was a few years ago." 

His voice was low, and serious. "I don't know what I would have done if my mother had…She means everything to me." 

"It sounds as though she's a lovely woman." 

William looked up, his eyes bright. "She is. Just absolutely extraordinary. Very kind, and gentle. She has a lovely voice, and she always listens to my poetry." 

"I'm sorry this happened to you, William. I truly am." 

"No, don't be sorry. I discovered something this afternoon while I was writing."

"And what's that?"

"If this is real, and I'm not insane, then this is…well…glorious."

"Glorious?" Buffy asked. "I would think it's terrifying beyond words." 

"Well, that too." He tilted his head slightly, and studied her. "Did you ever wish you could start over? Somewhere new?"

"Sometimes." 

"That's what this is. A fresh start."   
  
Buffy nodded. She felt that she understood perfectly. After all, isn't that exactly what William needed? When he was turned, he created a completely new persona so he could start over. 

"I hope I can help you, William." 

"I think you can." 

They smiled at each other, and the candlelight danced and sparkled in his eyes. Buffy felt a pull towards him, some sort of connection that didn't have anything to do with the vampire that owned her heart. She thought he felt it too. But the shared moment was shattered by the telephone ringing. 

He jumped and looked around wildly. "What's that?"

"Nothing, it's just the phone. Don't worry." 

Buffy used her slayer speed to get the phone before it could ring again. "Hello?" 

"Hi Buffy," Willow greeted casually. 

"Willow! How are you? I was just thinking about calling you. What's up?"

"I'm fine. I just called to ask how you're doing." 

"Oh, great. Why do you ask?"

"Well, after the other night, I wanted to make sure that you were feeling better."

"I feel fine," Buffy assured her. "It was just temporary insanity. Very temporary." 

"Well, that's good Buffy. Look, I got to go, but I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be home. Have a good evening Willow." 

Willow hung up the phone and turned to face Angel. "She didn't say one word about William. I can't believe she did this." 

"I can't believe she hasn't told anybody." 

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Angel. But it just seemed so…well, crazy. I mean, I'm still not sure I believe it." 

"I've seen him, and I don't believe it." 

"I mean, I know she was pretty distraught but I never thought she would take things that far." 

"I don't think she meant to, Willow. I think she tried to stop Dorjan before he went through with it," Wesley explained. 

"But now she's got herself in quite a mess."  
  
Willow nodded, "Yeah I know. So I guess the question is, how do we fix it?"  


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Wait, wait, wait. Buffy tried to raise the dead?" Xander demanded. "Why? How? Why?"

"She wanted to bring Spike back," Willow repeated for the fifth time. 

"But, it's Spike," Xander protested. "I mean, just Spike." 

Angel and Willow looked at each other. _Was he always this clueless_? 

"She loved him," Willow reminded her friend gently. "Still does, I guess." 

"Well, I know she was sad when he died, but I didn't think…"

"How deep in denial are you?" Angel asked. 

Xander shook his head. "So, let me get this straight. She gets it in her mind to bring Spike back, and somehow, ends up with William?"

"Pretty much," Angel answered. 

"What's she going to do now?"

"Take care of him, by the sounds of it. She insisted on bringing him home with her, and took full responsibility for him. She won't even let me help," he explained. 

"Why hasn't she told any of us?"

"I don't know," Willow answered. "I called her and gave her a chance to tell me, but she acted as though nothing was wrong." 

"Maybe nothing is wrong," Wesley suggested. 

"No," Willow contradicted, "This is the definition of wrong. A dead man pulled 120 years in the future? Wrong. Do you have idea what could happen?"

"No." 

Willow sighed. "Like I told Buffy, there are always consequences. Period. I can't even imagine how this could have disrupted the timeline…" 

"It didn't," Wesley answered. "I…interrogated…Dorjan until he told me exactly what happened. Somehow, he managed to clone the body, and pull the double into the future." 

"God," Willow breathed. "That is extremely heavy, dark magic. Forces that I can't even…Are you sure he's safe?"

"He's been taken care of. We won't need to worry about his further involvement." 

"What do you want us to do, Will?" Xander asked. 

"I don't know yet. I'm going to have to do some research, call the Coven in England and see if his magic has disrupted anything. I'm going to have to meet William and read his aura…then, well, I'll know what we have to do." 

"What are some possibilities?" Angel asked. 

She shrugged. "It depends on what we find. It's possible we won't have to do anything at all. It's possible that if there is a problem, it'll correct itself on its own. Or it's possible that we'll have to step in and…remove the problem ourselves."  

~*~

After Willow called, Buffy's good mood was ruined. William didn't push her, but was disconcerted by her silence. He didn't know what to do with himself. Was he welcome in the kitchen and front room with her, or would it be better for him to take his leave? He found himself at a complete loss, ignorant of what etiquette dictated in such a situation. 

It didn't matter though. He doubted he had the ability to walk the short distance from the table to his bed. It wasn't exactly a lie when he told Buffy he felt better. At the time, he had been feeling better. Though, tripping on the sheet was a falsehood. He didn't trip at all, just lost his ability to stand for more than a few seconds. But it was far too embarrassing to admit that he had practically fainted. Somehow, being a "spaz" as she called it seemed not so bad. 

He watched her wash the dishes. She was muttering curses under her breath directed to what he could only assume was the strange, ringing machine. She looked angry, and it took William's breath away. She moved and acted as though he wasn't in the same room, her face flushed, her eyes bright and darting about the room, her hands working animatedly. 

"Aren't I allowed to make mistakes?" She demanded suddenly.

"Um, well…"

She didn't wait for an answer, instead, plunged ahead into her rant. "I know what they're doing. Does she think I don't know? Are they the only ones allowed to make mistakes? Are they the only ones allowed to mess up? What? I'm supposed to be perfect?"

"No," he offered softly. 

"What gets me is that they had to find out somehow. Which means Angel has been talking. So much for his promises huh? I should have known better by now. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me two million times, shame on me." She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm over-reacting." 

William remained silent, unable to think of a way to respond. She didn't appear to notice. 

"Do you want some ice cream?" She asked, finally focusing all of her attention onto him. 

"Yes, that sounds delightful." 

"Well, you can have Dawn's. That's what she gets for having a life." 

William frowned, not knowing what to make of that comment. She handed him a small, colorful container and a spoon. "Dig in." 

The first bite was surprisingly cold and painfully sweet. But delicious. "What is this?" 

"Double chocolate chip fudge. Too sweet for me, but Dawn loves it." 

"It's…something else. I don't think I've ever had anything like this before." 

She laughed and took a bite from her own carton. "Oh good, I'll get to introduce you to the joys of ice cream. Don't let them fool you, there are more than 31 flavors." 

"I'm looking forward to it." Around another bite of ice cream. He dug in merrily, thrilled over the taste and texture and temperature and the way it glided down his throat. 

Buffy watched him with a smile. Her own dessert tasted better after watching him. Come to think of it, dinner tasted better too. But after a few minutes of heartily stuffing his face, she grew somewhat alarmed. 

"Um, William, you better slow down, or you're going to get…." 

"Ohhhhh, my head." 

"A headache." 

"What just happened? Oh, this is awful."

She nodded sympathetically. "It's a brain freeze. Give it a few minutes, and you'll feel better. But you have to put away the ice cream." 

  
He winced and handed over his ice cream begrudgingly.  He closed his eyes and allowed a few moments to pass while she put the melting dessert away and finished tidying up the kitchen. 

"Are you ok?" He asked without opening his eyes.

"Me? I'm not the one with the splitting headache."

"You seemed upset earlier," he explained. 

"Right, well, it was nothing a little ice cream couldn't fix. See? All better now." She plastered a very large, very fake smile on her face. 

"If you don't want to tell me, I understand." 

"No, no, it's not that. I mean, it's not that I don't want to tell you, it's just that I…"

"Can't?"  
  


"Don't know how. I figured I'd introduce you to my life slowly…things can be a bit crazy around here." 

"I can handle it," William insisted.

She laughed bitterly. "That's what they all say." 

"Is there anything left that can surprise me?" 

Before Buffy could answer, William silently clutched his head then fell off of the chair. 

Buffy rushed to his side. "William?" She turned him over onto his back, alarmed at the waxen color of his skin. "Oh god, what's _wrong_?" 

She calmly felt for a bump on his head, looking for blood, called his name, did everything she could think to do in the case of a head injury. She couldn't find anything physically wrong. 

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. "What happened?" 

"You fainted. William, has this happened before?" 

He nodded slightly. "Earlier today, when I fell…"

"Any other time?" 

"While I was working, I fell asleep a few times." 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't wish to alarm you. I'm sure it's nothing." 

"It's not nothing if you keep passing out. How else do you feel?"

"Fine." 

"Fine?" 

He nodded. "I can assure you that other than the odd fainting spell, I'm fine."

"Do you feel light headed?"

"Well, yes," he admitted, "but not all the time." 

Buffy worried her bottom lip, trying to figure out what to do next. Her intial reaction was to call Angel again, and get a hold of Dr. Roberts, but after the phone call from Willow, she didn't know how much she could trust him. She could just take him to the clinic, but how would she explain the large bit on his neck…that was currently bleeding all over the floor. 

"Shit," she muttered. "Shit, shit, shit. You're bleeding again." She grabbed a kitchen towel, and held it against his neck, applying as much pressure as she could to stop the bleeding. 

"I'll have to call Wesley," she finally said when the bleeding and all but ceased. "At least he won't be all judgmental…" 

~*~

Willow couldn't help feeling resentful. She wasn't just the magic girl anymore. She wasn't The Big Gun anymore. She wasn't the geeky girl who squealed over research parties. Buffy wasn't the only one who had found a new place in life, a new reason for living. 

Her whole life it seemed she had been looking for something great, and now she just wanted something normal. Something quiet. A small apartment, a small college, a warm lover to come home to every night. It wasn't so much to ask for, and the strong, aching hold of magic was lessening each day. She could feel it slip away from her, and she didn't fight it. 

When she stood at the crossroads of her new life the year before, she honestly believed she would always be in the business of saving the world. Kennedy was a Slayer; there was a whole world of slayers waiting for guidance. All she had to do was find them. But then she decided to take a year off to finish school, and before she knew it, she was caught up in the whirlwind of mundane normalcy. 

But the misery of it was that it never slipped away. The magic, the geek, the research, the old life, it was all there, calling to her. She could repress and deny, but at her heart, she couldn't resist the thrilling call of the _fight_, the _kill_. She hadn't been born with the instinct, but she had created one and nurtured it until it matched Kennedy's ferocity. 

And so the resentment festered, because it was hard to deny it when she was on the hunt. She stacked the dusty tomes in front of her, armed herself with her favorite pens and highlighters, and had her bag of chips resting next to the Diet Coke comfortably. She was finished with school, had a vacation stretching ahead of her, and a mystery to solve. The smell of musty leather was heady and intoxicating, the allure of faded ink undeniable. 

Beneath the festering resentment and the general excitement was inexplicable hurt. Buffy had attempted to raise the dead, even after she was explicitly warned not to. Did Buffy think so little of Willow now that she could just blithely ignore her warnings? It's true that they had slowly been growing apart, but she thought there was always a level of respect between the two of them. Enough respect that when Willow said "don't do this incredibly dangerous thing," Buffy would listen. 

But then, it's true that Buffy never listened to anybody. Buffy considered herself the big Boss, and though she was no longer _the_ slayer, some things never change. Apparently, she considered herself the boss over the mystical domain as well. 

~*~

When Wes showed up at Buffy's apartment, he didn't bother to ask why she called him and not Angel. He just accepted that Buffy didn't want to get into a fight with her ex-lover and asked her what the problem was. 

She silently led him to William, sleeping on the bed, breathing shallowly. 

"How long has been bleeding?" 

"About 45 minutes. It was worse before I called you." 

"Any other problems?" 

"He said he's been feeling light headed, and fainted a few times." 

Wesley carefully moved the bandage on William's neck and examined the wound. He was surprised. If anything it looked _worse_ than before. "This isn't right," he murmured beneath his breath. 

"Does he need a doctor?"

"I don't know if a doctor will be able to help him," he answered honestly. "The bite isn't infected, it just isn't healing."  
  


"Why not?" Buffy demanded. 

"I don't know, Buffy. It could be that William is anemic; it could be because the magic destroyed the make-up of his body, it could simply be the magic itself won't let him heal. Working with those types of forces is hardly full-proof." 

"So what are you telling me? That he's just going to get worse?" 

"Possibly."

"You don't know _anyone_ who could help him?" 

Wes could see that Buffy was growing desperate. Desperate to save William? Perhaps because she couldn't save Spike. Or maybe because she felt that his life was her responsibility. Or maybe it was just the natural Slayer instinct that made her strive to protect the world, and its people, and at all costs. At any rate, Wes didn't want to disappoint her. There was still a feeling of _failure_ where the Slayers were concerned. He had messed up and lost them both, and though he understood what happened wasn't his fault, he couldn't help but feel responsible. Maybe be helping her, he could redeem himself as a Watcher—even if there was nobody left alive to care anymore. 

"I may know someone. I have to do some research, call a few people…" 

"Will you, please?" 

He nodded. "I'll keep you updated. In the meantime, keep his neck clean and covered, make sure he gets enough food and stays hydrated. Don't let him out of bed." 

"Ok."

Wes turned to leave the room, but Buffy grabbed his arm. "Don't tell Angel, k?" 

"Any reason why not?" 

Buffy shrugged in response. 

"Buffy, you need to know that they all know about William. Including Xander." 

She nodded, "I figured as much when Willow called. Angel told them?" 

"Yes."

"They're angry now?"

"Yes." 

"Of course they are. Buffy isn't allowed to make mistakes. Ever." 

He smiled apologetically. "Sorry." 

"I guess I'll deal with them soon. Try to explain everything to them…"   
  
Wes could tell she wasn't excited about the prospect. Honestly, he wouldn't be either. 

"Call me if anything changes." 

"Will do." 

Buffy showed Wes out, then finished cleaning up the kitchen, and mopped the blood off the floor. Fear was a hard lump in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want him to die, she didn't want him to be sick, she didn't want to be part of this mess. Why couldn't everybody just be healthy and happy? 

That night, she tried to sleep but she couldn't. All she could think about was Spike sending her away, William bleeding in her bedroom, and the fear that she was about to lose someone who was quickly becoming a dear friend.  


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"But I told you yesterday I couldn't come in," Buffy protested. "You said it would be alright." Pause. "Yes, I understand, but I have a family emergency here and I can't…" Long pause. "Fine, I'll be there in 30 minutes." 

"What was that all about?" Dawn asked. 

"There was a scheduling mix-up and they need me to come in."

"What about William?"

"I'm going to need you to stick around today and keep an eye on him." 

"I had plans."  
  


"I'm sorry Dawn, but I have to go in. He basically said if I like my job, I'll be there by nine." 

"What time do you think you'll be back?" 

"He said I can come home when Carla shows up, around 2." 

Dawn nodded, "That's fine. I don't need to be at Susan's until 5." 

"Well, I'm so happy that I was able to work around your schedule. Anyway, if you anything…bad…happens, call me. Check his bandage on a regular basis, and make sure you feed him a decent lunch." 

"I think I can handle it Buffy." 

"Right, of course you can. I'm gonna check on him before I go. I don't have time to cook him breakfast so…"

"I'll get started on it." 

Buffy smiled thankfully at her sister. After the initial shocked and angered reaction, Dawn had calmed down and accepted that William was now a part of their life. Buffy didn't know what she would do without Dawn's help and support. Life would be a lot more difficult if Dawn had simply decided she would have no part of her sister's insanity. 

"I don't want to be a burden," William said as a greeting when Buffy entered the room. 

She frowned. "You're not a burden."

"I heard you arguing with your sister…" 

"We weren't arguing about you, William. It's not your fault my boss sucks." 

"You work?" 

"I have to."

"What do you do? Sew? Are you a Governess?" 

"Try none of the above. I work in a customer service center." 

"I don't understand." 

"Basically if someone has a problem, they call and yell at me until they feel better." 

"It sounds dreadful." 

"It is, but it pays the bills until I can get a degree." 

"Oh! You're going to school? Will you be teaching soon?" 

Buffy laughed. "No, no, not going to be a teacher. Women have more choices now. I can do whatever I want." 

"That sounds quite…progressive."

"A lot of things have changed. At any rate, I'll be back this afternoon, maybe in time for lunch. If you need any thing, don't hesitate to ask Dawn. She'll take care of you." 

"Thank you." 

Unable to loiter any longer, she gave him a final wave, then gathered up her purse and her keys. 

"What are you making him?" 

"French toast." 

"Give him some soup if he gets hungry again." 

"Buffy, how long have you been a nurse?" 

"Don't be a smartass." 

Dawn practically had to push her sister out the door. She wanted to make sure the French toast was good enough, wanted to check on William one more time, wanted to grab more coffee, wanted to call Wes. Rolling her eyes, Dawn shut the door behind Buffy and locked it. 

The air was tinged with the slight smell of burning bread, and Dawn quickly flipped the now dark brown toast onto a plate. She grimaced that the nearly black center, and debated over whether or not she should feed it to William or start a new batch. She finally decided that if she smothered it with butter and syrup, he probably wouldn't notice anyway. Besides, he was hardly in the situation to be picky. 

She balanced the plate and a large glass of orange juice on a tray and carried it to him. Buffy would laugh her ass off if she saw Dawn meekly carrying food to someone else. "French toast _ala_ Dawn," she announced. 

"It smells wonderful." 

"Yeah, well, good. It's supposed to smell like that. Hope it's enough."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be." 

Dawn positioned the tray on his lap and plopped down on the nearby chair. She watched him gingerly eat for several seconds before growing bored. 

"You don't like it?"

"No, no it's delicious. I'm just not that hungry." 

"Because of your neck?" 

"I have a headache." 

"The food will help you feel better, supposedly. But if you think you're going to vomit, aim for the can." She beckoned to the small, plastic wastebasket on the side of the bed. 

"Oh…thanks. I'll keep that in mind." 

"So, what do you think of the future so far?" 

"It would be a great deal more enjoyable if I wasn't feeling so ill. I would like to leave the bedroom and see this new world." 

"I'll take you out and show you around when you're better," Dawn promised. 

He handed his empty plate to her. "Thank you." 

"Still hungry?"

"No, no, that was quite filling, thank you." 

They lapsed into silence, Dawn holding the syrup-covered plate. She didn't know what to say to him, but she didn't want to leave either. She didn't want to make him talk, but she didn't want to bore him by making him listen to her talk. He didn't seem uncomfortable with her though, or impatient for her to leave. Maybe he wanted a bit of company. 

"How old are you?" She finally asked, out of a long held curiosity. Spike never would tell her how old he was when he was turned, out of a misplaced sense of vanity she always thought. 

"26." 

"Did you have any sisters?" Another question that she always longed to ask, but never did. 

"No, it was just me and mother." 

"Am I bothering you with my questions?"

He smiled. "I don't mind them."

Dawn felt her way around him carefully for the next hour, prying into the corners of his life, developing a broader picture of who he was. So much surprising information to sort through, and comprehend. And yet, it wasn't surprising at all. Finding out through careful questioning that he was extremely lonely and without really any friends at all was not surprising. Spike always liked to be surrounded by people, and yet, he was always by himself. 

It did not take much persuasion to open William up, and soon he was telling her a great deal about his life. He still spoke with a rather reserved quality, and chose his words carefully, but it was clear that he was happy to share. Dawn wondered if anybody had bothered to ask before. 

"You were close to him, weren't you?" William eventually asked. 

"Who?" 

"Spike." 

"Buffy tell you about Spike?"   
  


"Briefly."   
  


"Yes, we were once close. We grew apart." 

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?" 

"Just some bad choices. Too many bad choices between us." 

William smiled shyly, his gaze earnest and sincere. "I hope we can become friends." 

Dawn returned the smile. "I think we will." 

~*~

Wes locked himself in his office and made it absolutely clear that he was not to be disturbed, by anybody. He told Angel that he was working on a new case of Glorsnick demons terrorizing Hollywood, trying to figure out where they came from and how to kill them. This wasn't entirely a lie. There were Glorsnick demons in Hollywood, and he was trying to figure out how to kill them—they just weren't his top priority. 

William's mysterious appearance, and even more mysterious malady was something Wes could really sink his teeth into. He loved a mystery, and loved having the resources at his fingertip to solve it. 

His first action was to talk to Dorjan again. He was being safely held in an anti-magic chamber below the building. Up until now, he hadn't put up much of a fight. He was too drained from the spell he foolishly performed. Unfortunately, Wes couldn't get much out of the weakened sorcerer. It seemed that Dorjan didn't really know _what_ he did, or why it worked. All he could say was that he found the exact book in the library, and the window of opportunity was too small to hesitate. 

That didn't explain why Dorjan was compelled to perform the spell though. Wesley would have loved to look at the book himself, but it had disappeared. Nobody remembered seeing it in the room that night, and Dorjan certainly didn't have it on him. 

Curiouser and curioser. 

The more Wes investigated, the more convinced he became that Dorjan had very little to do with William's sudden appearance. If anything, Dorjan was acting as an unknowing vessel. Wes's first hunch had been that he had been unable to resist doing the spell because of the rush it would cause, but now Wes suspected that Dorjan was forced to do the spell because he was the only one who could handle the influx of power. 

So the question became who and why? Wes was used to working with things that were out of his hands, out of the realms of logic, and into the realms of mystical prophecies and fickle Powers. But usually, there was some sort of justification for the interference of some higher being. Evil always had a plan, and sooner or later, it would become clear. Of course, Wesley didn't completely close the door on the idea that Dorjan wasn't serving a source of evil, but rather, was the unwitting agent of Good. A thought that honestly was no less frightening. 

Just to be on the safe side, Wesley poured over the prophecies housed in the law firm's rather extensive library. He found a few interesting leads, but they were ultimately dead ends. There were very few passages that referred to their particular place and time, and virtually none that could be applicable to William's situation. 

When he waded through the well used and accepted book of prophecies, he moved into the totally obscure, and often wrong, texts. The prophecies in those books were nearly worthless anyway; the phrasing was far, far too ambiguous. But those obscure prophecies did often have a list of references in the back to other magical texts, thoughtfully provided by the poor saps that spend their entire lives trying to make sense of the pointless ramblings. 

It was in the small text on the darkest arts that Wes got his first clue. _One born of magic will need the strength of many to be sustained._ That was all. It wasn't much, but it was a start, and Wes felt in his gut that the passage applied to William. 

~*~

Angel offered to let Willow use his rather extensive library to research, but she declined. She preferred to start with the Internet. It wasn't as reliable as old books, but it was easier on the eyes, faster to search, and sometimes she found a few gems. Also, she could search from home. Which was good, because she did like to spend as much time with Kennedy as possible. Even if she wasn't exactly spending time with her. 

Willow diligently scanned through websites, message boards, and articles. She noted with some interest that there would be a few "conventions" over the summer, sponsored by various covens. It would be cool to hook up with some other witches and exchange spells…but that was neither here nor there and Willow quickly forced herself to get back on track. 

The hours passed quickly, and before she knew it, it was already time for dinner. Kennedy silently left a plate of sandwiches on the desk for her at some point, and Willow smiled at the thoughtfulness. Kennedy did her best to be everything that Willow needed, going out of her way to be considerate and even more docile. Willow appreciated the effort, but in her heart of hearts, she didn't believe that the relationship would last much longer. Already they were growing distant. 

So lost in thought about her relationship, she almost completely missed the crucial passage. _One born of magic will need the life of many to be sustained_. Willow sat back, frowning. There was no doubt that the passage could be applied to William. He literally existed because of magic. The life of many? Did that mean that people would have to die in order for him to live? What happened if nobody was sacrificed for him? Would he die quickly, or would he waste away slowly? 

She would have to call Angel and get his opinion before she researched anymore. Willow suspected it might be kinder all around to…well…she couldn't finish the thought. She would call Angel. She would have no problem leaving that sort of decision to him. 

~*~

When Buffy finally got home, a full two hours after she was supposed to be let off, she was surprised to see Dawn and William sitting in the living room on the couch, quietly watching television. 

"Hey Buffy. You're late," Dawn greeted. 

"I know, I know. Somebody quit today, so we were extremely short-handed. What's up?" 

"Nothing, we're just watching the History Channel. William wanted to know what me missed." 

"Hello, Buffy. Would you like to join us?" 

"No, I think I'm going to shower and change. You sticking around Dawn?" 

"I have to go in about 30 minutes." 

"Will you start dinner?" 

"No problem." Within a minute, Dawn was loudly sorting through the fridge looking for something edible. 

"William, are you feeling better? How is your neck?" 

"I feel much better today."

"Did Dawn bother you?" 

"No, Dawn was great company. Here, sit with me." 

Buffy thought about resisting for a second time, but decided that it wouldn't kill her to watch…. "What are you watching?"  
  


"I believe Dawn said it was Histories Mysteries. Something about Zombies and voodoo." 

Buffy lifted her eyebrow, "Why are you watching this garbage?" 

"Oh, no, it's quite interesting. See, there's this fish…" 

"That's ok, you don't need to explain it to me. I believe you." 

"The television is quite marvelous. I could spend all day watching it." 

"And have," Buffy muttered beneath her breath. 

"What was that?" 

"Nothing. I'm glad you found something to entertain yourself." 

"You must watch the next program with me. Dawn says it's on the Discovery Channel. It's called the Real Journey to the Center of the Earth." 

"What is it about?"

"Have you ever read the book by Jules Verne?"

"I've heard of it." 

"Well, this documentary contrasts what the real center of the Earth is compared to what Verne wrote. I'm very excited about it." 

That much was obvious. His blue eyes were positively dancing, his face slightly flushed. Buffy noted idly that his mop of curly hair needed to be combed, the crazy curls bobbing back and forth as he spoke. 

"Sure, I'd love to watch it with you." It wasn't something Buffy would be remotely interested in on her own, but she didn't think it would be too much to watch the show with him. It was obvious that he wanted to share this with somebody…with her. 

To Buffy's surprise, the documentary was actually quite interesting—if a little long. A few times, William expressed surprise, and even utter shock, at the facts revealed on the show. Buffy was enjoying herself so much that she completely forgot about the meal Dawn prepared, and only spared her a glance when she rushed out the door. Who knew that the Discovery Channel could be so interesting? 

"You really must read the book," William commented when the show ended. 

"I'm not a big reader," Buffy admitted. 

"Can you get a copy?" 

"I could probably go to the library tomorrow. It should be open in the afternoon." 

"Would you like if I read it to you?" 

"I've never had anybody offer to read to me before." 

"Really? I used to read to my mother all of the time. I enjoy it quite a bit." 

"That'll be nice. I'll get the book tomorrow," she promised. "Oooh, Scooby Doo is on." 

"What's that?" 

"My favorite cartoon. I think you'll like it." 

Buffy shifted on the couch and leaned against his arm slightly. He didn't pull away. Buffy couldn't get over how _cozy_ it felt with him. Even if they were just watching tv, it was the nicest thing Buffy had done for a long time.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Did you talk to her?" Willow asked when Angel returned to the car. 

"I did." 

"And?"

"She said that he's slightly better now, but still bleeding."

"Did you ask her when she's actually going to tell us?" 

"I told her it would be a good idea to talk to you guys soon, but she seemed pretty hesitant." 

"Did you get a chance to talk to William?" 

"I did."

"And?" 

"He's normal, I guess. Pretty quiet and bashful though. He seemed to be pretty happy just watching TV with Dawn." 

"Ok, so he's not brain damaged or some sort of monster?" 

"You were expecting him to be?" 

Willow shrugged. "I can't find very much reliable information about him. I didn't really know what to expect." 

"Would it make things easier if he was brain damaged?" 

She sighed, "I don't even know if there is a problem yet. I mean, I know what I found, but it was still pretty vague." 

"You better figure it out quick, Willow. The longer he's here, the harder it will be to take the necessary precautions." 

Angel put the car into drive and they headed out silently. Both lost in thought, concerns and doubts weighing heavily on their minds. 

"What's the worse can scenario?" Angel finally asked. 

"He starts killing people. Or we have to start killing people for him." 

"Do you think that will happen?"  
  


"I don't know, Angel. It would be much better if I could see him, study him." 

Without a word, Angel slammed on the breaks and flipped a U-turn. 

"What the hell was that?" Willow demanded once she caught her breath.

"This isn't a game. You need to see him. If Buffy doesn't like it, well, too bad." 

Willow settled into her seat, suddenly nervous. She didn't like to put Buffy on the spot, because she was unpredictable in those situations. But there was no sense in putting off the inevitable, and honestly, it was nice placing the decision in Angel's hands. 

They were back to the apartment complex within minutes. As soon as Angel parked, Willow jumped out the door and headed up the stairs. Taking a deep breath and not giving it too much thought, she knocked on the door. 

Dawn answered. 

"Oh, hi Willow! What's up?"   
  
"I came by to see Buffy. Is she home?" 

"Um, yeah. Come on in." 

Willow expected to see William in the living room or the kitchen, but was disappointed. She did see Buffy however, munching on a carrot and reading a magazine at the kitchen table. 

"Hey, Wills, what's up?"  
  


"We need to talk." 

The bright, fake smile left Buffy's face. "Yeah, I know we do. Did Angel tell you?" 

"He did. Buffy, why didn't you?" 

She threw her hands up helplessly, "I don't know. I didn't know how. I mean, how do you explain something like that?" 

"I just don't understand, Buffy. I mean, how _could_ you? You of all people should know better." 

"I know. It was a mistake." 

"A mistake? Like an accident? How do you accidentally bring someone back from the dead?" 

"It wasn't…I didn't bring him back from the dead, and I didn't mean for this to happen." 

"What did you mean to happen?" 

"Nothing! It was all a…misunderstanding." 

Willow rubbed her eyes. "Buffy, you messed with forces that you can't even comprehend. I've been trying to figure out what the consequences could be, but I've been coming up empty." 

Buffy didn't respond, rather shifted her attention back to the magazine. 

"Are you ignoring me again?" 

"What?" Buffy asked. "I'm not ignoring you." 

"Whatever. Can I meet him?"

"Maybe, if he feels up to it. He hasn't been feeling good lately."

"I feel quite well, thank you." 

Both girls turned around, and saw William's smiling, if rather wan, face. "I thought you were resting," Buffy said.

"I was, but I heard voices and thought I would come out and greet our visitor." He turned his attention to Willow. "Good evening, Ms…?" 

"Rosen…Rosenburg." Willow stammered, completely unprepared for actually meeting William. She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't this quiet, unassuming man standing before her. 

"Ms. Rosenburg. How are you?" 

"Oh, oh, please call me Willow. And I'm fine. I'm better than fine. The day is beautiful, don't you think. I saw a humming bird outside and I…um…I mean, how are you doing?" 

_Ok_, Buffy thought, _when was the last time Willow babbled like a fool?_

"I'm good, thank you for asking." 

Buffy stood up and silently offered her chair to William. He took it with a grateful smile, and Willow mentally noted that they seemed very comfortable with each other. 

"So," Willow asked awkwardly, "How's the 21st century treating you?" 

"It's been a very enlightening and entertaining. For example, did you know there's a fish that…"   
  


"We don't need to hear the fish story again," Buffy cut him off dryly, but not rudely. William didn't seem to mind, just laughed softly. 

"Anyhow," he continued, "it's an exciting experience."

"That's good. I'm glad that you are adjusting so well." 

"Yes, well, I didn't have much of a choice." 

Buffy silently sat a glass of lemonade in front of him, and he accepted with a polite nod. Again, the comfort level was markedly high. 

"Willow, would you like to stay for dinner?" Buffy invited. 

"I can't," Willow said, with genuine regret. "Kennedy is expecting me soon." 

She excused herself, and promised that she would call soon. William expressed interest in seeing her again, explaining that he had many things he would like to talk about and Dawn and told him that Willow was "the smart one". 

Angel took her home, and they both remained silent. Meeting William weighed heavily on her mind, and suddenly the thought of what they may have to do was absolutely sickening. There had to be another way. She would try harder.

~*~ 

Despite Willow's apparent acceptance of William, she was still in a poor mood when Willow finally left. Both William and Dawn knew better than to bother her when she was in that type of move, and so the house was silent nearly all night. 

"Dawn," Buffy said, finally breaking the long silence. "You should go to bed. You still have school." 

"It's only ten," Dawn protested. "I'm not 12." 

"I know you are not 12. Just go to your room, ok? I don't care if you sleep." 

Dawn wasn't in the mood to fight with her sister, so she just flounced out of the room indignantly.  

"Are you staying up?" Buffy asked William. 

"I thought we could start on the book…"

"Not tonight. I'm tired."

"That's fine, Buffy. I'll retire to my bedroom now. Oh, Buffy, I was thinking…"

"Yes?"

"There's really no reason for me to stay in the bedroom anymore. I can easily sleep on the couch." 

"No, William, you're still sick. And my guest. I'm fine out here." 

"Are you sure?" 

"I'm sure. Look, if you want, we can talk about this later…after you're stronger." 

"I will hold you to that." 

As soon as William went to his room, Buffy collapsed on the couch. The visit from Angel, the fight with Willow, and really the whole week had completely worn her out. She was working a full ten hour shift the next day, and she was not looking forward to it at all.

It would also be William's first day completely on his own, and the thought made her nervous. What if he passed out again? What if he started bleeding again? What if he didn't have enough strength to get his meals?  She sighed. He was an adult, he could take care of himself. Hopefully. 

All of this worrying about William brought back ugly memories of her mother's illness, and later, Spike's torture. She took their well beings on her shoulders, as well as the safety of Dawn, and her friends, and her entire world, and she just wasn't that confident in her abilities. 

She hadn't thought about Joyce in a long time. The paid had eventually dulled, and then disappeared, and Joyce's memory lurked in the corners of her subconscious. It seemed that her mother was always _around_, just a part of her life, and that made it easier to live without her. But now she couldn't help thinking of the tests, the hospital, the pain, the pills, the careful instructions from the doctors, the fear that permeated the entire house until it suffocated them. 

Buffy knew that her mother would like William. She would be thrilled with William, in fact. They would have a lot in common, Buffy figured. They both were smart. They both liked art. Joyce liked Spike anyway. And there was no doubt that William would adore Joyce, for the same reason Spike did. She was a strong, independent, intelligent, mother figure. Just what he needed. Spike liked strong women. 

The more time she spent with William, the more she was able to completely separate him from Spike's memory. There were similarities, to be sure. The way he pronounced certain words, the way he tilted his head, the way his eyes sparkled, random mannerisms and general impressions. She recognized the eager way he looked at her, and the almost hungry way he gazed at her. She was familiar with the poet that lurked just beneath Spike's hard veneer, and she knew his soul. But there was much more to William than what he shared with Spike. 

Somehow, in the depths of the night, the thought depressed her. She enjoyed William's company, and each day she felt herself growing closer to him. But he wasn't _Spike_. Having William around just reminded her that Spike was gone. 

With these troubling thoughts, she finally fell into a restless sleep and tumbled into horrible dreams. 

"Mommy? Mommy?" She didn't respond, no matter how many times Buffy called her name. She just stared sightlessly at the ceiling, unmoving. "Mommy? What's wrong? What are you doing?" 

_The ambulance workers shoved her out of the way. With blood on their hands, they picked up her mother. Blood smeared across her face, across her clothes, clotted in her hair. _

_"That's not her blood!" Buffy insisted, but they ignored her. "You're hands are bloody." Bloody handprints all over the living room, covering the couch, blood dripping onto the floor staining the carpet. _

_They carry her away, and Buffy can't reach them. They carry her out the door into a black abyss, that grows darker and deeper. It sucks her mother into it, and Buffy shouts after her, but all she can see are bloody tracks._

_"S'ok, pet," Spike said from behind her._

_She spun around. "Spike! Oh God, they took her. She's all bloody, and they wouldn't let me clean her."_

_"I know, luv, but she'll be fine."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"It's not as scary as it looks. You know that." _

_"Is she? Did she go to Heaven?"_

_"Course pet. Your mum was  a good woman, a classy lady. Course she went to heaven." _

_"Spike, all that blood…it's yours."_

_"It is."_

_"Where are you going?" _

_"Can't follow you and your mum, Slayer. Got my own thing I have to do."_

_"No, you've done enough." _

_He walked out the door, and she noticed the blood was gone. But the darkness was not. _

_"You can't follow her, Spike. You can't see her!"_

_"Not going where she's going, pet. Don't need to follow her." _

_Before she could ask him where he was going, the darkness followed him. She was left _

_alone in her house, surrounded by darkness. "Where are you going?" She cried. _

_They keeping telling me to go…to go to hell. _

Buffy woke up with a cry, tears already falling down her cheeks. Oh God, oh god, was that a Slayer dream? What did it mean? No, it couldn't be a Slayer dream. No, no, it was just a bad dream. A nightmare. 

"What's going on?" William demanded in the darkness. "Are you ok? I heard you, and I came in…"

A strangled sob escaped Buffy's throat. She didn't know what the dream meant, but it had frightened her at a very base level, and though she knew the inky blackness of night intimately, it didn't stop her from being afraid. 

William kneeled beside the couch. "Buffy? Buffy, pet, what's wrong?"

Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Startled, he tried to pull back, but she wouldn't let him go. She needed physical contact, needed an anchor to the world until the sun came back. He relaxed and wrapped his arms around her, and slowly the tension left her muscles. 

William held her and gently stroked her hair until the tears slowed and dried. He meant to ask her again what had upset her, but he didn't want to break the comforting silence. He inhaled softly, thrilled by the feel and scent of her. She was soft and warm.  He had never, ever been this close to a woman. 

He was mortified to feel himself growing hard, and he closed his eyes and did his best to will it away. It didn't work. He waited desperately for her to fall asleep so he could escape, but the last thing he wanted to do was release her sweet body. 

When she finally did fall asleep, he still didn't let her go, though his knees were screaming in protest and he was still straining uncomfortably against his paints. Finally, he was forced to lay her carefully on the couch and untangle her arms from his neck. She stirred slightly, but otherwise, continued to sleep peacefully. With a sigh of relief, he hurried back to his own room. 

He lay stiffly on his bed, his legs straight, his arms tense at his side. He was forced to free his hard member, and instantly sighed in relief when it sprung loose of his pants. He had touched himself before, tentatively, with extreme caution and fear, but not often. Only when it was absolutely, positively necessary, and even then he hated to do it. All he could think of was the disapproving glares of his minister and his mother. 

But they were the very last things on his mind now. Nothing could have been farther. The only thing he could think of was the slightly sweet, slightly salty way Buffy smelled when she pressed her body against his. All he could think of was the feel of her soft, unsupported breasts against her check. The texture of her long hair that wound around his hand. 

The more he thought of her, the harder he stroked himself. Soon he was picturing her naked. Despite the mingling feelings of embarrassment, humiliation, and _wrongness_, he couldn't stop his over-reactive imagination. He imagined licking her salty skin, tracing her breasts with his lips, kissing her stomach and thighs. He thought about touching her in her softest, secret places, murmuring her name as he explores her body, studying her like a map to buried treasure. 

He envisioned finally entering her, taking her, making her his. He knew only that it would make him feel powerful, but not what it would feel like to be inside of her. That didn't matter though. Just the thought of doing something so wicked, yet so delicious was enough to send him spinning over the edge. 

He cleaned the mess up desperately, exhausted and yet exhilarated. He knew it was wrong to think about her like that, but he could not deny how much he wanted her.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

First one week passed, and then another. The three of them fell into a standard routine, and much to Buffy's satisfaction, William continued to grow stronger. Neither mentioned the night he came to comfort her, both distinctly uncomfortable with the memory. Dawn quickly learned that William was a treasure trove of information, and so she was sure to utilize his knowledge to help study for her year-end finals. 

William spent the days by himself while Buffy and Dawn were at work. Twice, he attempted to venture out of the apartment go for a walk. It was just too crowded, to loud, to dirty, and too uncomfortable for him to enjoy these trips, so he gave up on them. Instead he occupied his time with the television, always finding something new and delightful to entertain him, and with reading. And of course, writing poetry. 

Since the night he held Buffy, his poetry had taken on an erotic edge. Lines extolling her creamy skin and bright smile, the gentle swell of her breast, the barest glimpse of her leg. She drove him to distraction, but he exerted a Herculean effort to keep that fact well hidden. At night when he could hear her moving in the next room, and he imagined the way she looked when she slept, the way she felt in his arms, he did his best to avoid touching himself. He struggled against the natural urges, even resorted to praying to God, begging Him to stop the torture. 

Despite William's best effort, he always gave in and quickly, sometimes even painfully, brought himself to orgasm. The guilt was nowhere near as uncomfortable as the aching hardness between his legs. 

It would never even occur to William to approach Buffy with his feelings. It was more than just some sort of carnal attraction. The more time he spent with her, the more she delighted him. She was never cruel or impatient with him, and she enjoyed listening to his stories. He rarely felt uncomfortable with her, and he believed that she liked him too. But still, William would never tell. He had been mistaken in the past about a lady, and he wasn't in a hurry to try again. 

After he regained his strength, his memory returned. All of it. Every detail. Especially of the night he died. The part with Drusilla—that was frightening. Even horrific. But the part before? It was so humiliating and painful that he couldn't even think of it without feeling the sting of angry tears. But he would never forget the lesson that taught him. Some men were meant to have a great love, and some men were only meant to dream about it. 

~*~

  
Buffy couldn't help but smile when she watched William help Dawn with her history essay. It was clear that Dawn was extremely grateful and also clear that William loved to help. He was constantly offering his service, agreeing to do whatever needed to be done. For example, he loved cleaning the kitchen. Of course, as a result, all of her dishes had found new homes and she didn't know where any of her food was stored anymore. But if it made him happy and kept him entertained the long hours he was by himself, then she didn't mind. 

The only time the household's harmony was disrupted was the evening Buffy offered to cut and style William's hair. It was clear that the curls were driving him crazy as they flopped in his face, but he never complained. He agreed, and Buffy carefully trimmed the hair off of his face. She then showed him out to slick it back and keep it in place. 

He took a handful of gel and carefully combed his hair back, then looked up at her and smiled. 

"Spike," she murmured, surprised and disoriented. William frowned. 

"What?"

"Sorry, nothing. It's just, with your hair, you look…I'm sorry." 

William messed his hair until it was a riot of curls. His seemingly constant gentle demeanor was gone, and for a second he _was_ Spike. His mouth thinned and his eyes were hard.  "I'm not him, Buffy. I won't ever be." Then he escaped to the privacy of his room, and Buffy was left surprised and shaken in the kitchen.   

Since that night, Buffy was very, very careful to stop making comparisons between William and Spike. He was right, he would never be Spike. Not even if he was vamped again. There was no point in even thinking about it, and William deserved better than that from her. 

There was one rather alarming development though. She was always physically attracted to Spike. She wasn't blind, and he was a hottie. But when she was honest with herself, she knew the attraction to him was more than just physical. The dark undercurrents of death and desire between them, his brash attitude, the way he smirked, the way he fought, the way he moved like liquid sex. He was dangerous, even with the chip, and she couldn't help but be attracted to him for it. He was also a mess of contradictions that confused and intrigued her. She never was a big thinker, and yet, she couldn't help but want to sort him out. But she never could. In the end, she wanted Spike because he was _Spike_. 

When William first moved in with them, there was no attraction. She didn't think of him like that at all. He was just an obligation, another person she had to take care of. And while she enjoyed his company, there was never any sexual tension between them. Which was fine with Buffy. She didn't need that kind of complication in her life. 

But the night he held her and let her cry, things began to change. She didn't know if he felt it too, but she had had more than one dream about him. Which was a welcome change of pace from her nightmares about Spike. More than once, she thought about kissing him. How would he react? Probably with complete embarrassment. And Jesus, how horrible would it feel if he rejected her advances? She did not want to jeopardize their relationship either, because it was growing into something strong. 

~*~

"Why are you still awake?" William asked. 

Buffy looked up from the bad horror movie she had been watching. "Not tired, I guess. Why are you still up?"

He pointed to the TV, and Buffy smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that, I'll turn it down." 

"What are you watching?"

"A really, really awful movie called Squirm. It's about worms or something."

"Ah, I've seen this before."

"When?" 

"It was on Mystery Science Theater last weekend. I watched it with Dawn." He sat down on the couch. "Mind if I join you?" 

"Not at all." 

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Bad dreams." 

"Like the one you had a few weeks ago?" William asked gently. 

"Yeah," Buffy sighed, "Like those. I keep dreaming about my mother, and Spike and…other things." 

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?" 

"No, not really. Thanks for asking though." They were silent for several moments, when Buffy suddenly asked, "Have you ever been in love?" 

William smiled sadly, "Yes, yes I fell in love once. She was beautiful, but…" 

"But it didn't work?"

"Something like that." 

"Spike told me…well, he didn't give me many details about what happened. You don't have to either, I didn't mean to pry."

"Why do you ask about it?" 

"Been thinking about it a lot. Love. Being in love. What it even means. I used to think I knew, but I was wrong. I have no idea." 

"Love isn't that hard to figure out, Buffy. It's a feeling, right here," he pointed to his heart, "But it's more than that. It's life. To love is to live."

"Not always. Some people die for their love, kill for love." 

"To die for love would be the most glorious death of all." 

"And to kill for it? Is it worth the pain, William? Was it worth the pain?" 

"What are you trying to ask me, Buffy?" 

"Everything that's happened, I never want to do it again." 

"I'm sorry you feel that way." 

The whole time she was talking, William was studying her face, trying to figure out what she was going on about. What was on her mind? Was she trying to tell him something? He was both encouraged and discouraged by what she was saying. She didn't want to fall in love again, but it wouldn't be a concern if she didn't think it could happen. 

"I should go to bed."

"It's late," William agreed. 

"I'm off tomorrow, do you want to go somewhere?"

"Where should we go?"

"We can go see a movie, or to a museum—though I'd rather see a movie—or maybe to the Mall." 

"The Mall?"

"Yeah, do some shopping. Though, I guess shopping isn't very high on your priority list." 

"Honestly, I have never enjoyed going to the market. That's why we had servants."

"You had servants?"

"Well, one. She did all the shopping, and cooking, and cleaning." 

"It must have been nice."  
  
William shrugged, "Just kind of natural. I wouldn't mind going out tomorrow. Would Dawn like to come along?"

"I don't know. I'll have to ask her." 

The prospect of spending the entire day alone with Buffy, out in the strange world, was both frightening and exhilarating. He couldn't wait.  

William stood up to excuse himself for bed, and Buffy followed suit. 

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow," she promised. 

"Good night, Buffy." 

Later, when she ran through the events of the night, she decided it was the way he had said her name. It was soft, but there was a texture to it. Something powerful, something she had never heard before. Something that compelled her to step forward, and cut the side of his face. He didn't move away, but looked at her with curious blue eyes. 

There was just an inch of space between them, but it took an eternity for Buffy to cross it. It seemed that she could have changed her mind a hundred times, and she probably did. William had ample opportunity to pull pack, but he didn't move. Then their lips meant. 

It would have been natural, even expected, for her to think of Spike, but she only thought of William. His virgin lips were soft and yielding, but hesitant. Buffy coaxed his lips open, and briefly let her tongue slip into his mouth. The kiss was slow and tentative, and very short. William pulled away first, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed. Buffy smiled, but she could tell that William was uncomfortable.

"William…"

He didn't respond, just turned around and as calmly as possible, went back to his room. Stunned, and slightly hurt, Buffy fell onto the couch. That was probably a bad move. No, strike that. _Definitely_ a bad move. 

She wouldn't have been in the least bit surprised if William decided to not go out with her the next day. 

~*~

Buffy woke up the most delicious smells, wafting lazily from the kitchen. She pulled her robe on and stumbled groggily into the room, looking for her cup of coffee. 

"Good morning," William chirped. 

"Um, good morning."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Please. I didn't know you knew how to cook." 

"I don't. Dawn showed me how to do everything before she left." 

"What are we having?"

"French toast. Here, sit down and I'll serve you."

"You didn't have to do this, William."

"Oh, nonsense. It was the least I could do." 

He set the plate in front of her with flourish, and Buffy stifled her laugh. The bread was badly burnt, and the strawberry he had found for garnish was very close to being fuzzy. "It looks lovely."

William grimaced. "No, it looks awful." He sighed. "Dawn makes it look so easy." 

"It's ok. We'll get something to eat when we go out. I mean, if you still want to…"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

Ok, obviously the kiss wasn't going to be brought up. And it wasn't a big deal. Buffy didn't quite know how to take this. Wasn't he Victorian? Weren't Victorians supposed to be all repressed, or suppressed or depressed or something? But if he didn't want to make a big deal of it, then Buffy would follow his lead. No sense making a mountain over what was obviously a molehill. 

Since William was ready for to go and was just waiting for her, Buffy hurried as quickly as possible to get ready. But it wasn't simple. Part of her believed this was a date, and wanted to dress accordingly. She could still get quite cute when she wanted to. Another part of her knew that she was just playing the tour guide, and she shouldn't get so excited.  Of course, that didn't really stop her from wanting to be cute, but there was a limit. How cute _should_ she be?

She finally decided on a red sundress, braided her hair back, chose cherry red lipstick, and cute strappy shoes that she hadn't had a chance to wear yet. She looked good, but not _too_ good. Not "This is a date and I'm dying to impress you" good. 

The day with William passed rather quickly. Then went to the movies, a sappy romantic thing. It was the only film not showed out when they got there. She took him to eat at her favorite restaurant, and he dug into his large cheese burger with gusto. She showed him around the Mall and he pretended to be interested in all the girly clothes shops and shoe stores. 

When they finally returned home, exhausted and ladened with bags, they were laughing and the awkwardness of the night before was long forgotten.  Well, not completely forgotten. William would never forget the way her warm lips felt, and the sweet taste he had of them before he pulled back. 

He was still cursing himself for running away. There was absolutely no reason to bolt like that. There was no reason to act like a shy, silly _coward_. _What must she think of me_ he fretted. And all day, no matter where they were at or what they were doing, he wanted to kiss her again. While they were walking outside, he wondered if her lips would taste of sunshine. Over dessert, he wondered if he could catch a trace of her chocolate ice cream. He wondered if her lips tasted different after she smiled, after she frowned, after she laughed. He was dying to find out, but he never tried. 

Dawn wasn't home when they got back, and William knew that it would be the last chance of the day. If he _wanted _ to kiss her again, he couldn't wait. William felt that he had a very small window of opportunity. But most of all, he had never felt more comfortable with anybody as he did with Buffy all day. 

She was talking excitedly about a new dress that she found on sale for half off the first sale price when he did it. He closed his eyes and held his breath, and brushed her lips with his. She was startled, but she didn't push him away like he feared she would. Instead, she opened her mouth for him—a silent invitation. For just a moment, he was torn with indecision, but then he accepted. 

Neither one of them wanted to break the kiss, and so it stretched for long minutes, each second made the longing increase. William felt his blood stir and longed for more, but didn't even dare touch her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he relaxed, and let his arms naturally fold around her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"So," Dawn said casually, "I saw you two playing kissy-face last night." 

Buffy dropped her spoon in shock. "We were not playing kissy-face!" 

"Whatever, Buffy, I saw you practically sucked his face off." 

Buffy sighed. "It was just a goodnight kiss."

"It looked like a lot more than that." 

"Why do you even care?"

"Are you falling in love with him?" Dawn asked seriously, all traces of the earlier humor wiped away. 

"What? What kind of question is that?" 

"A serious question, Buffy. Are you?"

"It's none of your business."

"Look, Buffy, I get that you're a private person. You don't want to share, that's fine. But don't play with him, Buffy. He's not Spike, he won't be able to take it." 

"Dawn, I don't think…"  
  


"Buffy listen to me—if you aren't serious about him, don't lead him on. Because he is serious about you."

"What do you…" Buffy's question was cut off by the ringing phone. "Hello?"

"It's Wes. Can you come to the office today?"

"I have to work, I'll be there around 7?"  
  


"Come earlier if possible. This is important." 

"Right, I'll be there." 

~*~

Wes was pacing the room nervously when Buffy arrived. "What's up?" 

"Remember the passage I found?" 

"About William needing strength?"

"Yes, well, there are apparently multiple passages. I've seen references not only to strength but also _life_, and _death_. There doesn't seem to be any clear meaning."

"Are we running out of time?"

"We will need to do something soon. It's true William is getting stronger, but that won't last much longer."

Buffy kept careful control of herself. "You have books and resources from multiple dimensions, and you can't find the answer?"

"Buffy, you have to understand that this is hardly a common occurrence. As far as I can tell, this is the first time this has happened in recorded history."

"Then how did Dorjan manage it?"

"That's another problem, Buffy. Something guided him. Dorjan is currently in a containment room to stop him from practicing more magic, but he recently asked for a pen and paper. His writings are very disconcerting." 

"What?"

"He's writing, well, I guess channeling would be  better word, a spell. He goes into a trance to write and well, it's rather frightening."

"What's the spell?" Buffy asked impatiently. 

"It's to bring Spike back." 

"What? I told him to stop!" 

"I don't think it has anything to do with you, Buffy. Something takes him over…"

"How close is he?"

Wesley shrugged, "From what I can tell, it'll work. This spell can bring Spike back as he was just before he died. Someone just needs to perform it." 

"Who would do this? Who is sending the spell?"

"It could be an agent of evil, or an agent of good. It's impossible to tell, especially if it has anything to do with the Powers." 

"Is there anyway you could find out?"

"There are a few oracles, but they are notoriously hard to work with. I'll contact them, but there is no guarantee it will bring any results."

"Do the best you can. If someone is trying to bring back Spike, we have to know who and why."

"Buffy, I know this is rather hard on you…"

"No, don't. This is my fault, I'll have to deal with it."

"Maybe, Buffy, maybe not." 

"I'm sorry this is taking up so much of your time…"

Wes shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I think this is bigger than any of us initially thought. And I think this needs my attention more than anything else right now." 

"Have you talked to Angel?"

"Not yet, but I'm going to have to. He is the boss here, and he needs to be kept updated—especially if it's as serious as I suspect it is." 

"Thanks for letting me know." 

"No problem. I'll call you as soon as anything else comes up. Buffy?"

"Yes?"

"How is William?"

"He's good."  
  


"Is he adjusting well?"

"He is."  
  


"Be careful Buffy. We don't know what's in store for William." 

Buffy frowned. "I will be." 

She kept complete control over herself until she was in her car, and then all of her muscles went lax. The energy was completely sapped out of her body. She couldn't move, couldn't cry, couldn't do anything except rethink what Wes had said over and over. 

They could bring Spike back. Something was determined to bring Spike back. William could die. Oh God, what a mess. The thought of remaining in her car indefinitely so she wouldn't have to deal with all of this was extremely tempting. So tempting in fact that when she started driving, she went the opposite direction of her apartment.

She wasn't going to abandon Dawn and William, but she couldn't face them. She drove through the endless winding streets of LA, occasionally jumping one on of the freeways until she was completely lost. She figured she could distract herself by figuring how the hell to get home. 

Buffy wasn't even paying attention to the street names, or the time, or the cars around her. She was driving on auto-pilot, fear and adrenalin fueling her. She didn't realize it, but she was choosing flight over fight, and though she couldn't get far, that didn't stop her from trying.  

The memory of the dreams hit her full force as she was merging onto the 10 Freeway. She slammed on her breaks and was nearly hit by a large Semi-truck. With shaky hands and gasping breaths, she exited the freeway and pulled off at the first gas station she found. 

She sat in the car shaking, silent tears streaming down her eyes. He couldn't follow Joyce. He had other places to be. That's what he told her. He couldn't follow Joyce to heaven. He told her, and she thought they were nightmares. But how could he be in Hell? He saved the world. He saved them all, how could be not be in Heaven?

She knew she couldn't drive home, she couldn't do anything. It took her 3 attempts to turn off the car, and it took ten minutes to dig out 50 cents with her shaking hands. She was so distracted by her failed attempts to dial Willow's number, that she didn't hear the vampires until they were on top of her.

Buffy fought with an ease that could only come from nearly a decade of practice, but she was too shaken, too distracted to beat them off easily. By the time she took all four of them, she was tired and bleeding from various scratches. Gripping her arm with one hand, she attempted to call Willow again. 

"Willow? Are you busy?"

"No, no, what's up Buffy?"

"I need help." 

"What's wrong? What happened?" 

"I'm lost, and I'm bleeding."

"Do you have any idea where you are?"

"No. Can you do a location spell and give me directions home?"

"I can try, hold on." 

Buffy found a pen and on receipt in her purse, and ten minutes later, the bleeding and stopped and she was armed with directions home. Now that the crisis was over, she could get a hold over herself before she tried driving again. 

She went into the gas station and bough a half dozen candy bars. She didn't start her car until she ate every single one. The chocolate had a calming effect, and it gave her the energy to drive the long distance home, but above all else, it gave her time to think. There was no point in panicking or getting upset, not yet. They didn't have the full information, and freaking out wouldn't solve anything. 

Thus calmed, she started the car and very carefully merged onto the 10. Traffic was low, and she made it home in good time. She decided not to tell Dawn or William what Wes had revealed; it would be easier to deal with that mess when it was absolutely necessary and not a moment before.

She knew that she should call a meeting between herself, the old Scoobs, and Angel's gang, and lay everything out on the table. She would disclose everything, including her relationship with William. Except, she didn't exactly know what that relationship was. Another thing she could put off and think about only when it was absolutely necessary. 

Kissing the night before had been amazing. It had been a very long time since she had had any sort of real physical contact, and her body craved it. William wasn't the greatest kisser, but for somebody so inexperienced, he was quite good. There were a few miscommunications, and a few mistakes, but it wasn't really awkward. And she wanted to do it again. Not necessarily anymore than kissing—for now, kissing was great. 

They would need to talk about this, decide where exactly they stood with each other. Dawn was right—she couldn't treat him like Spike, keeping him at arm's length and shutting him out emotionally. William wouldn't be able to deal with that, William didn't deserve that, and she didn't want to do that. 

The only problem was, she didn't know what to do to keep that from happening. She had been so shut off from people for so long. She told Angel she needed to bake, but she had no idea if she was still raw. What if she was? How would that effect a possible relationship with William. 

Just the phrase kind of freaked her out. _Relationship with William_. An actual relationship. Not like she had with Angel, or Riley, or even Spike. He wasn't a vampire, or a military guy, or had any special powers of any kind. He couldn't fight with her, and he couldn't really be part of a Slayer's life. And for the first time, that didn't matter. It didn't matter at all, because other than the odd run-in with a vamp, she wasn't the Slayer anymore. 

She knew it, logically, for the past year, but the full force of the fact hit her and she almost swerved the car. _Holy shit, I can have a real relationship! _It was true that William was far from normal in the traditional sense of the word, being the nearly reanimated corpse of a man who died over a century ago and was brought forth due to magic used to resurrect a vampire who saved the world, but in Buffy's universe, that was about as normal as normal got. 

By the time she reached home, she was feeling sick from the chocolate, but also considerably calmer. She had a plan. She could cope if she had a plan. She wasn't usually plan-girl, but plans led to actions, and she was definitely action-girl. She would go to sleep, she would call everybody tomorrow, she would meet them as soon as possible, and she would talk to William. Not necessarily in that order, but it would all happen. And then she could go from there.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

William tried to stay up for Buffy, but he fell asleep long before she returned. It was unusual for her to disappear like that it, and it troubled him greatly. Was she mad at him? Trying to avoid him? 

Kissing her had been amazing, life changing even. He was unsure of what to do though, how he should proceed, what he should expect from her. Where he came from, nice girls did _not_ kiss like that, and he had absolutely no way of knowing how common or acceptable it was for Buffy to kiss him. Which meant he had no way of knowing how to treat her. 

He also didn't know what it meant. Maybe it meant she liked him. Maybe it meant she was lonely. Maybe it meant she was bored. Maybe he dreamed the whole thing. Maybe she would breeze into the house, covered in sunlight, and act as though nothing at all happened. Or maybe she expected him to make the next move. 

It was all very confusing, and William fretted over it until his stomach was twisted in painful knots. 

The next morning, William woke up early with the hope of catching Buffy before she left for work. But by the time he dressed, she was already gone. Dawn informed him that she was picking up some extra hours on the morning shift. 

William sighed and dejectedly poked at his breakfast. 

"What's wrong, Will?"

He looked up at Dawn. "Nothing, nothing at all." 

"Come on, you look like somebody killed your cat." 

"No, I don't have a cat."  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. "You look sad. Now what's wrong?"

"Buffy."

"Why am I not surprised? Have you talked to her at all lately?"

"No, not since…"

"You kissed her?" 

William narrowed his eyes. "How did you know about that?"

"I saw you." 

"Oh.  I see." 

"Do you love her?" Dawn asked gently. 

William released a shaky breath and ran his fingers his hair nervously—nervous tic # 33. Dawn wouldn't be surprised if William picked up smoking, he needed something to calm his nerves. He was constantly doing something with his hands, especially when he was upset or nervous. 

"You don't have to answer," she continued. "If it's too private. But I might be able to help."

William shook his head and stood up quickly. "I've got to go." 

Dawn grabbed his hand, and stopped him. Curious blue eyes clashed with frightened ones. "What are you scared of, William?" 

"Scared? You're mistaken. I'm not scared at all." He didn't leave, rather began pacing the small kitchen. "Why should I be scared?"

"Because maybe she doesn't feel the same way?" Dawn suggested. 

William paused and tilted his head. He studied Dawn, as though she was a unique and exotic specimen, something he never saw before. Then in a perfectly even, reasonable voice he said, "Why would she ever feel the same way about me?" 

Dawn gaped. "What do you mean?" 

His tone remained serious, though now his voice shook slightly. "You know who Buffy loves, Dawn. We both do, and I doubt that will ever change. Especially for me." 

"Spike?"

"Of course, Spike." 

Dawn worried her lower lip, unsure of what to say. She knew it was true that Buffy loved Spike, maybe more than anybody she had ever loved. Maybe less. It was really impossible to tell with Buffy, whose emotions were carefully schooled behind a veneer or stone. But she did try to bring Spike back, didn't she? 

"Spike's been dead for a year…" Dawn started. 

William shook his head, "That doesn't matter. If she truly loved him, she'll always love him. No matter what." 

"How do you know?" 

He shrugged sadly. "That's how love is." 

"When were you in love, William?"

"Never," he admitted, "Not with her, anyway." He looked up and met Dawn's eyes, tears sparkling in his own. "And_ she _killed me. What will Buffy do?" 

~*~

The plan Buffy had come up with the night before had been a good one. She liked it. It covered all the bases. The problem was, however, that she was too much of a coward to implement it. She could slay demons and stop the world from ending, but she couldn't come clean with her feelings. 

She skipped the Lean Cuisine at lunch and called Giles instead. She hated making long distance calls on her cell, but she didn't think she could do this from her place, not with William and Dawn lurking about.

"Hello?"

"Giles! Hi!" Forced perkiness always came across as something closer to hysterics. 

"Hello, Buffy," Giles greeted warmly. "How are you?"

"Um, good. You?"

"I'm well. We're making great head-way in the getting the Council put back together. I'm quite excited about it." 

"That's great," she said, even as she grimaced at the thought of a whole new generation of watchers. "I don't suppose you could make some time to visit?" 

"Why, Buffy? What's wrong?"

"Why does anything have to be wrong? Can't a Slayer miss her Watcher?" 

"Buffy?" 

She sighed, "There's a problem. I don't know how big it is, and it's too hard to explain on the phone. You need to come out here." 

"When?"

"Yesterday." 

"Is it really that urgent, Buffy?"

Buffy thought of William—dying—and Spike—reappearing. "Yes, it is. Wes has been helping me with the problem, but we need you. I need everybody." 

"Well, I could attempt to teleport…"

"Doesn't that take up too much magic?"

"Don't worry Buffy, I'll call you when I figure something out. What time will you be home tonight?" 

"Six."

"Great, have a good afternoon, Buffy." 

And it was as simple as that. Fortunately, the conversation hadn't been terribly awkward, and despite her misgivings, she was genuinely excited to see Giles again. 

She had some time left, so she called and left voice messages for Willow and Xander, to let them know that she needed to see them, and that Giles was coming. She checked her own messages and was relieved to find that Wes hadn't called with another warning of doom. 

The hours rolled away, and she couldn't put off going home any longer. 

"Where's Dawn?" She asked as way of greeting, when she entered her dark, silent apartment. William was sitting on the couch, by himself, obviously deep in thought. 

"Out?"

"How are you?"

"Fine."  
  


"Whatcha doing?"

"Thinking."

"Mind if join you?"

"Not at all." 

Buffy plopped down on the couch next to him, and rubbed her eyes. 

"How was work?" 

"You know, it was work. Same old, same old." 

"Oh." 

Silence. Long, dark, timeless silence. Uncomfortable. Tense. Buffy tried to think of ways of breaking it, and it occurred to her that she could skip the talking and go right to the kissing. But that approach hadn't worked too well for her in the past, and she felt that she had gained a bit of wisdom with her last birthday. Maybe not a lot, but enough to know that she couldn't gloss over her problems anymore. 

On that note: "We need to talk." 

"Yes we do," William agreed softly. 

"I'll start. I'm not very good with emotions, or talking. I'm more of a doer. As you can imagine that doesn't make relationships very easy. The people who are closest to me—well, they've always known me as the Slayer, but they knew me as Buffy before I locked myself off from them. Does that make sense?"

"It does." 

"And now I've started a new chapter in my life. I can be Buffy again, but it's hard. I don't know if I remember how—how to act, how to be, how to feel. Last year, with Spike, I was beginning to learn again. And then we saved the world and, well, I could finish baking." 

"Right." 

"I don't know what to do, William."

"What do you want to do, Buffy?"

"I want to have a relationship with somebody that doesn't end in death and destruction. I don't know if I want a _normal_ life, but a relatively sane one would be nice. And I think…I think that's possible. Now. For the first time. I think it's possible with…" Her voice faltered, her strength crumbling beneath the weight of his stare.

"With?" He prompted. 

"With you." 

~*~

Giles arrived 36 hours later, smiling, obviously happy to see his Slayer again. It had been a long time, and when he left, they weren't on the best of terms. The wound of losing Spike had been too raw and fresh, his earlier betrayal like salt in it. It stretched between them, and Giles didn't know how to cross it. But some time, some distance had healed those things, and when he knocked on Buffy's door, she launched herself into his arms. 

"Giles! I'm so happy to see you again." 

"I'm happy to see you Buffy." He hugged her tightly, and she squeezed him until he was short of breath, but he didn't complain. 

"There's somebody I want you to meet." 

"Oh?"

Buffy stepped back and William emerged from the kitchen. "Giles, this is…" 

Giles reacted before he thought, springing forward, and grabbing the man's collar. "Spike." His voice dripped with venom. 

"Giles? What is wrong with you?" Buffy tugged her ex-watcher away from William, with more strength than necessary, and Giles went stumbling across the room. "This isn't Spike!" 

Giles looked up, confused. "Then who is it?" 

"It's William. William." 

"William?" 

Buffy sighed. "It's a long story, Giles. And that's why you are here." 

Giles straightened and took his glasses off, cleaning them furiously. "I see." He replaced the glasses and put his hand out. "I apologize, William." 

Gingerly, William stepped forward and took his hand, shaking it politely. "Quite alright. I've learned that Spike elicits strong emotional reactions from people." 

"Yes, he does." Giles turned his attention to Buffy, who still had an angry glint in her eye. "I can see this will take some time to explain." 

"I want to wait until everybody gets here. I don't want to try to explain it more than once." 

"Sounds good." 

"The rest should be here soon, do you want anything?" 

"A drink would be good. Whatever you have." 

"I'll be right back, just, have a seat." 

Giles sat on the couch, but William remained standing. 

"How long have you been here?" Giles asked. 

"Nearly a month."

Giles narrowed his eyes. "Is there something wrong with you? You look ill." 

"I have been ill since…since I got here."

"Does Buffy know?"

"She knows I'm ill, she says that she is trying to fix it. She thinks I'm better now, though." 

"And you're not?"

"No." 

Buffy came back with Diet Cokes for everybody. "I don't have anything else," she apologized. 

"Quite alright." 

Within the next ten minutes, Willow, Kennedy, and Xander arrived. Wes and Angel arrived twenty minutes later. In the meantime, William politely put up with the staring, the questions, and the whispering. Buffy's smile was as strained as the conversation. 

When everybody had arrived and settled in the living room, Buffy took a deep breath and launched into her carefully planned speech. 

"I called everybody because I want all of you to meet William, and I want to explain what happened. Also, Wes has some important information that we need to talk about. Ok, last month was the anniversary of the battle. I was drunk and I was distraught, and so I did something I shouldn't have done. I called a sorcerer and asked him to bring Spike back. I changed my mind, but he tried anyway. He failed in bringing Spike back, but he succeeded in bringing forth William." 

"How?" Giles asked. 

"I'm a little sketchy on the magic, but I believe he was attempting to bring forth William's body to, well, put Spike into. But he made a mistake, and when William arrived, he was still alive. The problem is, he's been sick. The bite on his neck will not heal, and though he's grown stronger in the past month he's still not healthy." 

"That's what I have been looking into," Wesley announced. "But there have been some problems. One, it is unclear what exactly we need to do to help him. The passage has been translated several times, and each one is slightly different. Unfortunately, I can't find the original language. But matters are further complicated by Dorjan. He has somehow discovered a way to bring back Spike."

William was studying Buffy's face as Wes spoke, and he couldn't miss the slight smile, the hopeful glint in her eye. 

"But," Wesley continued, "after careful examination, two things have become clear to me. William and Spike cannot exist at the same time. For Dorjan's spell to work, William would have to, well…" He looked apologetically at the ashen man sitting on the couch, his hands folded primly on his lap. "Die." 

"Why do we need the spell to work at all?" Giles demanded. He much preferred William over Spike. Much, much. 

"Because we have reason to believe it's the Powers that are trying to make this happen," Angel said, speaking for the first time. "Which means, we might have our hands tied." 

"I need your help," Buffy announced. "We do't know what's going on, or what we should do…"

"So that means…" Willow started.

"Research party," Xander finished.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

_"I thought this place was destroyed?"_

_"It was. I watched it crumble." _

_"Why are we here? What's coming, Spike? What's happening?"_

_"Don't rightly know. Been trying to suss it out." _

_"I don't know either. I need help." _

_"I need something, pet." _

_"What?"_

_Spike kicked a rock, and a large crater opened where it landed. It continued to grow, the edge creeping towards Spike's feet. _

_"Spike? Tell me what you need." _

_"I'm going to fall in. May not be able to pull myself out again." _

_The edge was at his toes. Buffy tackled him, forcing him to back away from the hole, buying another precious minute of time. _

_"I can't keep saving you!" _

_"I can't keep saving you." _

_He wrapped his arms around her, and they lay their on the dead ground, the gaping maw of blackness growing behind them. "You can do it, Buffy."_

_"Do what?"_

_"Save my _life_." _

Buffy woke up gasping for breath, but not sobbing. She _knew_ he was trying to talk to her, knew that there was something he needed her to do. But what? How? When he said his life, what did he mean? His literal life? His life as Spike?

Buffy stumbled through the dark into the bathroom, her stomach in her throat. She felt like puking. It had been five nights since Giles arrived, and they had poured over books, parchments, catalogues, the Internet, made phone calls, and Wes disappeared to find his Oracle. 

And so far, they had nothing. 

Buffy dreamt of Spike every night, and every day recounted as many of the details as she could, hoping that it would provide some clue. They listened politely, took notes, did some cross-referencing, dug for symbolism and meaning, but so far, that too had been fruitless. 

Angel reported that Dorjan was still brainstorming spells. Every day he had a new one, and every one of them would have worked, according to Willow. 

William grew more and more distant. Buffy tried talking to him, but as each dream and spell was revealed, his eyes dimmed. She tried to talk to him, but he didn't show any interest. He stopped watching television. He abandoned the kitchen, and no longer experimented with making breakfast. 

Buffy suspected she knew what he was doing. He was preparing to die, the inevitable end was clear to him, and he didn't want it to catch him off guard. He retreated to his room with his books and poetry. 

Buffy stood in the hallway, torn and unsure. She knew William was still awake—he rarely slept anymore, at least, not that she was aware of—and she desperately wanted to talk to him. She didn't know what she could possibly tell him to cheer him up. She didn't have the answers either, and a part of her had already said goodbye to him. 

It seemed that Spike coming back was inevitable, and that should have made her happy. The same part of her that had already said goodbye to William was making room to welcome Spike back into her life. Each night when she woke from her dreams, she did so with a deep longing for him. 

  
_But_, she felt drawn to William. Her feet carried her towards his door. She raised her fist to knock. She put it down again. She bit her lip. She gathered her nerves and tapped on the door gently. "William?"

The door was flung open, and Buffy gasped. William looked…wild, was the only word she can think of. Normally he dressed himself carefully, but his clothes looked dirty and were very wrinkled, his shirt half tucked in. His hair was flying in every direction, his pale skin flushed red, his eyes darting around erratically. 

They stood staring at each other, both silent. William was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, and arousal stirred in Buffy's belly. Without a word, William grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind her. She allowed him to push her against the door, and when he claimed her mouth with a ferocity that both stunned and excited her, she responded enthusiastically. 

He finally pulled back to catch his breath. Buffy opened her eyes to study his face, to see what was going on behind his veiled eyes. She wondered if he was angry with her, but before she could ask, he smiled shyly at her. Her heart melted. He looked so sweet when he smiled, especially when he ducked his head slightly, and looked up at her with those sweet blue eyes. 

"Oh William," she whispered, "Why have you been hiding from me?" 

"Not…been…hiding," he said between kisses. 

She wrapped her arms around him. "I haven't seen you in days." 

"I've been trying to stay out of your way," he answered, after another long, slow kiss. 

"You won't be in the way. But I can understand if you don't want to help…This must be so hard on you, William. I'm so sorry." 

He shook his head, "If you want, I'll help anyway I can." 

"Have you been mad at me? Is that why you've been hiding in your room?" 

William kissed her forehead. "I could never be mad at you, Love. I just don't know what to do with all of your friends here. I do not enjoy crowds…"

She kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. "It's ok. I don't want you to be uncomfortable." 

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable." 

"Why would I be uncomfortable around you, William?"

"I might make it difficult for you…when you have to make your decision." 

"Look, we don't even know if I will have to make a decision at all," Buffy pointed out, rather lamely. 

He ran a thumb across her cheek gently. "Yes you will, probably sooner rather than later." 

"William, I wasn't lying when I said I that I could make something with you…"

"I wasn't lying when I said that I wanted you to, Buffy. But you have to follow your heart, and I can's stand in the way of that." 

Buffy sighed, "That's my problem. I never know what my crazy heart wants."  
  


"I don't believe that, Buffy." 

The whole time they talked, they exchanged soft kisses, sometimes even chaste kisses, both craving contact, seeking comfort. Buffy took it up a step by trailing her fingers under his shirt, across his finger, down his stomach. 

"What have you been doing in here?" 

"Writing, mainly." 

"Can you tell me?" 

Buffy could see the conflict in his eyes, even a bit of fear. But finally, he stepped back and indicated she should sit on the bed. He rummaged through his notebook, until he found the page he wanted near the back. 

He cleared his throat, and kept his eyes firmly on the paper in front of him. His heart was beating so fast he could hear it pound in his ears. 

"I'm blinded by the sunlight, 

Shining with intense might,

From her glorious eyes, 

Whether it be day or night. 

I long to kiss her skin

To hold her tight

For her to invite me in

To….I'm sorry, I can't finish this." 

Buffy jumped up. "Why? Why not, William? It was beautiful."

He shook his head self-consciously. "I'm not very good, and no matter how hard I try, I can never get the words right. I lose them."

"They sounded fine to me." 

William shook his head. "No, they are awful. William the Bloody…" he muttered underneath his breath.

She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. "Don't call yourself that, William. Just, tell me how it feels. What are the right words?" 

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "Absolutely beautiful. The way your eyes sparkle when you laugh, the way you taste when I kiss you, the way your hair falls around you like a silk waterfall around your creamy skin." 

"Those words sound good to me."

She thread her fingers through his hair and pulled him to her lips for another kiss. It was gentle, and he tasted the words he needed on her lips. _Sparkling, glowing, effulgent…_

Tentatively, William allowed his hands to wander around her body. He stroked her hair, and then rubbed her back with large circles. His fingers briefly brushed against her lower back, teasing the waistband of her pajamas, but he pulled away from that, too nervous to go further. 

"You can touch me." 

"I know. I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

He nodded. 

"Don't be," she whispered in his ear.

With newfound courage, he returned his attention to her body. He slipped his hand under the front of her shirt, and his knuckles brushed the underside of her breast. Buffy moaned in response, and William felt like he was going to come right there. It was too much, having her press her body against him, encouraging him to rub her, touch her, moaning and cooing in his ear. 

"I can't do this, Buffy." 

She looked up at him with questioning eyes. "Don't you want to?" 

He nodded, "I do."

"Then what's wrong?" 

"I just…I just can't, Buffy. Please."

She stepped away, frowning. "I don't want to make you do anything, William. I don't want to rush you into anything." She didn't understand what he was scared of, but it was clear he was terrified of _something_. "Maybe we should just call it a night." 

"I'm sorry, Buffy." 

She kissed his cheek. "Don't be. Have a good night, William."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

She told William not to be sorry, but she was. Very, very sorry. She couldn't believe how much she wanted him, though it mad sense if you thought about it. She hadn't had any real sexual contact since…well, since before Spike got his soul. 

Buffy _craved_ it, and it took all of her might to not march back into William's room and explain he had nothing to be afraid of, and show him exactly what she needed him to do. But there was a voice in the back of her head admonishing her. It wasn't time, it was too soon, it wasn't right.  

As soon as she was settled comfortably on the couch, she slipped her hand under her panties. As she rubbed herself, her thoughts drifted around William. The kisses were very good, none of the hunger, but when he allowed himself, all of the passion of Spike. But, William wasn't the push she needed, so she settled in and thought of Spike.

_His_ fingers sliding up her thighs, caressing them gently. _His _ tongue flicking around her moist sex until she squirmed, needing much, much more. _His_ lips trailing wet kisses up her body, alternately licking and biting, hitting every sensitive point on her body, nuzzling her neck, kissing her mouth hard enough to take her breath away. 

She thought of Spike whispering dirty promises in her ear, encouraging her to just let go, encouraging her to beg for more, daring her to ask him to stop. Dirty words cloaked in his silky voice, caressing her the same way his fingers did. 

Buffy's memories shifted and changed, and suddenly instead of fighting him in bed, she was fighting him to the death. His lean body ducking and dodging, hitting her back, as he smirked his challenge at her. He wasn't afraid of her, he could take her, self-confidence shining from his blue eyes. He moved like a panther, whirling around her, and she easily followed him. She always loved fighting with him, sparring with him, dominating him, winning. 

Her mind shifted back, and they were in bed again. He was above her, positioning himself, steadying her, teasing her. She rubbed herself faster she imagined the way he would smile slightly before sliding into her, the way he lifted her legs and angled himself, the way he would take her slowly—much much too slowly—just to torment of her. She would grip him with her legs and thrust her hips, forcing him to move faster. And he would. 

The orgasm came so quickly that it caught her off guard, and his name slipped from her mouth before she could stop it. "_Spike._" 

Exhausted, relieved, temporarily sated, she drifted to sleep. 

~*~

William was in a lot of pain. When Buffy left, he was in a lot of physical pain. He was so hard that he was pretty sure it would never go away. He couldn't even touch himself, because he was far too sensitive It actually felt like somebody had kicked him squarely in the balls. When he was 12, an older boy had held him down while another kneed him in the groin. It felt like that, except worse. 

He shouldn't have chickened out. He shouldn't have sent her away, even if he was so terrified he could feel it in his bones. He should have graciously taken what she was so willing to offer. If he had, he wouldn't be in this really, really horrible situation. 

William was reclined on his bed with his eyes closed, willing the pain to go away, when he heard it. _Spike_. 

All of a sudden, the physical pain would have been a welcome release. The dull ache radiating from his groin went unnoticed over the piercing ache in his chest. She left him and immediately thought of Spike. 

William was forced to confront what had been plaguing his mind for the past week. He was just a temporary replacement, distraction, until Spike came back. William had Spike's face, his body, and for a lonely, broken heart, maybe that was enough. Every time he tried to put it behind him, he was forced to remember that he was there by mistake. The one she really wanted was gone.

But just for now. 

William knew that Buffy would be forced to make her decision soon, and they all knew what it would be. He was fairly sure that the only reason she hadn't made it yet was because of some misplaced loyalty to him, or maybe just a guilty conscience. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable, and breaking both their hearts. He should make the decision easier for her. 

It seemed pretty obvious what he had to do. He rolled on his side, staring at the wall sightlessly as he began to make his plans. 

~*~

The Oracle had trials, as any good Oracle does, but nothing Wes couldn't handle. In fact, they were relatively simple. Slay a demon there, stake a vampire here, and conquer a test of faith. Standard stuff. 

"What are you doing here, Watcher?" The priestess hissed.

"I came to ask a question."

"You may ask one." 

No sense in beating around the bush. 

"Why do the Powers want to bring back Spike, William the Bloody?" 

"They wish to create balance."

"Balance?"

"I will not answer another question."

Wesley growled in frustration. "This is important, damnit!" 

"To whom?"

"To the Slayer, Protector of the World, and Angel, Champion of the People." 

"You speak on their behalf?"

"I do."

"You have powerful allies, Watcher. The Balance has been upset by the Slayer. One life force has been split into two." 

"William?" 

"Both cannot survive." 

"How can we fix it?"

"I cannot reveal more." 

Wes sighed. At least it was a start. "Thank you."

He paid her the proper respects, and left the crystals he brought as offerings, and then returned to the sunshine. 

It was clear to him, now. William needed strength, life, and death. But not anybody's—he needed Spike's. He was correct before, both of them could not survive this. 

~*~

Angel was watching Dorjan scribble furiously on a legal pad. Another day, another spell. His productivity had increased. Now he was turning out at least two, if not three. All of them unique. He handed them to Angel—only Angel—with big eyes and a shaking hand. 

It pained him to received these messages. That much was obvious. When he was done channeling the spells, he was always pale, shaking, and very dehydrated. He hadn't had anything to eat for over a week. Every time somebody fed him, he would turn his head and push the food away, as though it was completely repugnant to him. 

Angel never knew Dorjan well, but he knew that Dorjan was a powerful ally, and one that Angel did not want to lose. There was no doubt that if this kept up, it would kill him. When Willow came to look at him, she was more than just a little alarmed. 

"You have to make him eat," she insisted.

"I've tried."

"He needs his strength. This type of magic is extremely powerful, and just receiving the spells can take a lot out of a person." 

Angel promised to hook him to an IV if he had to, so that Dorjan could receive the proper nutrients. But even that didn't work. He ripped the needle out of his arm, and flung himself off the bed, babbling and angry, his eyes wild. He had also grown increasingly incoherent, until the only thing that made sense was his spells. He was unable to write or speak otherwise. 

Angel had no doubt that if they didn't end this quickly, Dorjan would die. And whoever was trying to bring Spike to life would move on to the next most powerful witch available. The one closest to the situation. 

Willow. 

~*~  
  


Giles rarely slept anymore. He would catch a few hours when he could, but his time was absorbed by research. He was extremely curious and intrigued, and very interested in figuring out what the hell was going on. But he had a bigger reason for throwing himself into research. 

It was clear the uncertainty was tearing Buffy apart. He saw the wistful expression on her face when she looked at William, and the hopeful expression in her eyes when she thought of Spike. He had come to terms with the fact that his Slayer loved her vampire—even if he didn't like it. But it was also increasingly clear that she had strong feelings for Spike's human counterpart. 

Giles wasn't surprised that Buffy was attracted to William. He was the opposite of Spike in many ways—quiet, thoughtful, shy—but in two respects, he was very similar to Spike. It was clear to anybody with eyes that William loved Buffy, and it was also clear that William represented a safe place, a quiet place, for her to go when the world got to be too much. She relied on him as she had grown to rely on Spike. 

Giles had his own beliefs of who Buffy should be with. But that didn't matter. He wanted to do whatever was in his power to make her happy, to bring her peace. She had been fighting for too long, and now she had a chance to be happy. 

Giles was determined that whatever choice she made, it would be the right one, and he would help her get there come hell or high water. 

~*~

Buffy woke up early, eager to start the day. She had it off from work, Wes was supposed to be back from his visit to the Oracle, and she thought maybe she would take William out to lunch, to give him a break from the apartment. 

After she fell back asleep, she didn't have any more dreams. At all. For the first time in weeks, she was able to sleep peacefully and deeply. Usually William was awake before she was, but she didn't hear any noise from his room. Happy that he was getting some much needed sleep, she decided to leave him alone. 

By noon, Giles and Willow were there, comparing notes and discussing what had already been discussed a hundred times before. There would be no new information until Wesley returned, and Buffy was practically climbing the walls when he finally showed up, two hours later. 

"What did you find out?" Buffy demanded as soon as he walked in. 

"Something quite interesting. Maybe William should hear this too? It directly effects him." 

Buffy nodded. "He's been sleeping all day. Let me go see if he's awake." 

She returned five minutes later, pale, shaking. 

"Buffy?" Giles said sharply. "What's wrong?"

"He's gone," she whispered.

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"He left…he's not here." She thrust the crumpled up paper into Wes's hands, before she collapsed, boneless, on a nearby chair. 

"Oh dear," Wes muttered as he read the short letter. "Oh dear." 

"What is it?" Willow demanded. 

"Do you mind if I read this out loud?" Wes asked. 

Buffy shook her head dully. 

"Dear Buffy, I've been thinking a lot about us, and you, and Spike. I know what you have to do, and you've been putting it off because of me. I know what it feels like to love somebody as much as you obviously love Spike. I cannot, in good conscience, stay here and remain between you and he. Good luck, Buffy. I hope you have a beautiful life with him. You deserve it. Yours truly, William."

"How can he think I would just kill him?" Buffy asked, nobody in particular. "After…how could he think I would just kill him?" 

"Do you know where he could have gone?" Giles asked gently.

She shook her head. "He never left the apartment. The noise, the people, it bothered him. He wouldn't have anywhere to go, or anyway to pay." She looked up at them, her eyes dry but pleading. "We have to find him."

"We'll do anything we can," Giles promised. 

"How could he think I would just kill him?" She asked again, her voice thick with unshed tears and confusion.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 

William snuck out at 4 in the morning, the city still dark and as always, dangerous. He only had a vague understanding of the real danger that lurked in the shadows, the real monsters that stalked his shadow. But even if he knew, he wouldn't have cared. After all, he wasn't out on a pleasure stroll. The memory of the last time he lurked the dark corners of a city dogged his feet. Drusilla had found him then, who would find him this time? 

When he had asked Dawn what Buffy would do to him, he honestly hadn't believed he would die for her too. Not that he minded. He was dying anyway. 

He didn't see the vampires until they were literally sitting on his chest. "Look, Fang! Found ourselves an early morning snack." 

Fang glanced at William without interest. "He's already been bitten, and look how pale he is."

"He kinda looks familiar too," the vampire on William's chest said. "What should we do with him?"

William closed his eyes, and didn't even try to struggle. This was what he had been waiting for, and though it had happened much sooner that he had counted on he was ready. 

"Kill him, George." 

"But there's something about him…"

"What the fuck is your problem? Kill the motherfucker and let's _go_, or have you forgotten how quickly it gets early this time of year?" 

"Hey, I've seen more sunrises than you, Fang. Calm the fuck down, I won't let you fry. Now look at him." 

Fang complied, studying the pale, frightened man's face. "Why isn't he struggling? Did you knock him out?"

"No, he's still awake." 

"He does look familiar, though."

"I told ya." 

"Look, if it means so much to you, bring him back to the lair with us." 

"I bet he'll keep us for a few days at least," George said with satisfaction as he hoisted William over his shoulder. 

"At least," Fang agreed. 

~*~

They divided into teams three pairs to comb the city for William, Dawn opting to stay home and wait to see if he came back or anybody called. Buffy teamed up with Giles, Wes with Angel, and Willow with Xander. They were all given an area to inspect and a time to check in by. 

Buffy couldn't remember the last time she had been this torn up and worried. Her life had been so mundane since Sunnydale had been destroyed that the most nerve-wracking decision she had to make was whether or not she should splurge on a manicure once a month.

She knew that if she wanted, she could have him back by that night. The next dawn would greet the two of them, snug in their bed, exhausted from fucking and love making. If she wanted. It was already practically decided, wasn't it? Isn't that why William left? Because he could see which way her heart was leaning, what was going on in her head. 

Only, if it were that easy, she would have done it by now. If it were that easy, she wouldn't be frantically looking for William as Dorjan wrote yet another spell. If it were that easy, she wouldn't be sick with fear and worry. She was used to the size of Los Angeles, it didn't bother her at all, she didn't even think about it. Until now. Now LA seemed to be impossibly huge, and finding William would be like finding a needle in a needle stack. 

Beside her, Giles was calmly driving up and down the city streets, simultaneously keeping his eye on traffic and looking for William's slight frame on the sidewalk. Occasionally, he thought he spotted the fragile poet, but he had been wrong. 

"How far could he have gotten, Buffy?"

She shrugged. "He's ill, and he's weak, and he's broke. I'd say not far, but there's no telling who he could have run into, who could have picked him up." 

"Buffy," Giles said, as delicately as possible, "Have you given him any indication that you would prefer it if he…" 

"No," Buffy sighed. "I've been doing my best to keep everything as normal and sane as possible. I didn't want him to think that I wanted him to go away." 

"Do you?"

"No. Yes. No. I don't know, Giles. It's so fucking hard. William is distinct from Spike, and we're friends now. Our relationship is nothing like I had with Spike, and it's really comfortable." 

"But?"

"But it's nothing like I had with Spike," Buffy sighed. "I can see myself, you know, living with William. Starting a life with him. I haven't been able to think about it much, but when I do…well, when I do, it's possible." 

"Are you just using him as a replacement for Spike?"

"No, I could never do that. If I'd try, I'd be greatly disappointed." 

"And if you think of Spike? What kind of future do you see with him?"

"I don't let myself think about that, Giles. I can't." 

"Buffy, you had better think of it," he suggested gently. "His life, and yours, hinges on it." 

"Yeah, turn down this street. He's been to the mall before; maybe he'll head this direction. Familiar territory." 

~*~

"I feel like the answer is staring me in the face," Wes said. 

"Yeah? Thought we had everything pretty much figured out." 

"Not really. All we know is that somebody—evil or good we have no idea—is trying to bring back Spike and that William will die. One thing I'm wonder is, what does Buffy's dreams have to do with this?" 

"You think they're important?" 

"Giles told me that she and Spike had a pretty powerful bond by the time he died." He glanced at Angel to gauge his reaction, but Angel didn't give any indication that he was upset at the mention of Spike with Buffy. "Anyway, he could be trying to communicate with her in some way." 

"It's possible," Angel admitted. 

"If he can communicate with her, it's possible she can reach him," Wes suggested. 

"You think that's necessary?"

"I think it is. She's dreaming about him sometimes twice a night. Always the same theme." 

"Hell." 

"Right. It's possible that…"

"What?" 

"Do you think it's possible that Spike was in Heaven or some sort of heaven dimension." 

"He was a vampire."

"Yes, but he had a soul. And he died to save the world. That's got to tip the karmic balance a bit in his favor." 

"You think saving the world once makes up for all those lives, Wes?" 

"From what I've gathered from conversations with Giles and Buffy, he did a lot more than just save the world."  
  


"Let's say you're right, and he was in heaven. What's the point?"

"The point is, he's not there anymore." 

"You get that from her dreams?"

"I do. It seems the general theme, regardless of the context, is that Spike is being pulled into hell from…"

"Heaven," Angel finished. "Yeah, I noticed too." 

"I think he's being pulled to this dimension too, the same way he's being pulled towards hell." 

"Why back to this dimension?" 

"This is where his soul is. I think he's trying to find his soul, Angel." 

"Do you think he is the one sending the spells to Dorjan?"

Wes shrugged. "I have no idea. It could be him, or it could be an agent of the Powers working on his behalf."

"Why do you think it's so important that the Powers have to get involved?"

"I don't know. Not yet. I have a few suspicions, but it's hard to figure since I never actually knew Spike. All I have are second hand accounts from you guys, and a few accounts in the Diaries that survived. 

"Try to avoid those, the Watchers' Diaries." 

"Why?"

"When it comes to Spike, they aren't the least bit accurate." 

"For example?"

"Where do you think he got his nickname?"

"Which one?"

"Both?"

"The Diaries indicated it was from the ruthless way he killed people." 

"Spike was pretty ruthless," Angel admitted, "But both of those nicknames come from his poetry writing days." 

"I see your point." 

"I'm not happy with the situation, but if you need to know anything about Spike to figure this out, I'll tell you what I can," Angel offered. 

~*~

They all returned to Buffy's apartment four hours later, tired and disappointed. Buffy had morphed into General Buffy, and all of them recognized it as the defense mechanism it was. She informed them that she and Angel would patrol the city and look for clues and information, while everybody else continued to research. She didn't give them a chance to argue. 

In the back of her closet was a weapon's chest—not as finely done or as full as her old one, but it still had the necessary weapons. She pulled out several stakes and a long sword that Giles had given her for Christmas. She pointedly ignored the bed that was still rumpled and unmade, the pile of crumpled up paper that missed the garbage can, the small remnants of William's short stay.

She thought of asking Dawn to clean it, make the bed, put away his clothes…but that seemed too final, too much like she was putting his affairs in order after his death. She refused to believe that he was gone. She's lost people before, and she always saved them before they could be taken from her permanently. This wouldn't be any different. 

"Buffy, can I talk to you?" Wes asked, interrupting her thoughts. 

"Sure, but I'm leaving soon."

"It's ok, I only have one question. About Spike."

"Shoot."

"Do you think that after Spike was turned, he retained a bit of his soul? I think you're best suited to answer this question." 

Buffy paused, her gut reaction was _Of course not! That's why he went for a soul!_ But…but what did she know? 

"I think it's possible," she answered. "He told me…he told me about his mother." 

"What about his mother?"

"William loves his _mum_ very much. Spike went back to his house after he was turned. She…she was dying of TB and he wanted to 'save her'." 

"So he turned her?"

Buffy nodded. "He didn't give me the details, just told me that something went _wrong_, and he was forced to stake her." 

Wes frowned. "Why did he stake her?"

"Because she wasn't his mother anymore."

"But as a vampire, he shouldn't have cared." 

Buffy shrugged, "Exactly." 

"Thank you for telling me Buffy, I think, I know, this will help." 

She sighed. "I hope something I do helps. I just keep making this mess bigger and bigger." She pulled herself together, and she was back to General Buffy. "Well talk more when  I get back." 

"Hopefully I'll have something figured out by then." 

After they left, Giles caught Wes's attention. "I have an idea." 

"Yeah?"

"I think Spike is trying to communicate directly with Buffy."

Wes nodded, "I think so too. In fact, I was mentioning that very thing to Angel today. I thought that we should try…"

"To communicate with him?"

"Exactly."

"Get Willow and we'll start work on this." 

Giles sighed. He had several reservations about using that type of magic, but it was clear that Buffy needed to speak with Spike, and needed to do it quickly.  


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

William was never quite unconscious, though he was close. He was vaguely aware of the vampires that were drinking from him and taunting him. He had long since grown numb to the pain, and he felt rather detached from himself. 

The two that dragged him back to the next quickly lost interest in trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. They lost interest in everything except sampling his blood. It tasted _wrong_ but not bad, oddly compelling and repulsive at the same time. All of the vamps in the nest were old enough to have a bit of self-control, so they could savor the intoxicating blood for as long as possible, but the part of William's brain that was still functional knew the end would be coming soon. 

They didn't have him chained or tied, but he knew he couldn't escape even if he wanted to. And he didn't—well, not really. He had hoped that it would faster, that he would be gone already, that the decision would be finalized before Buffy even had to think of it. And instead it was dragging—hours? Days? William didn't know. 

He held on to the thought of her, when the crowded around him and drained him from his neck and his wrist and his legs. He kept her in his mind when they attacked and exposed, defiled and humiliated him to the point that he didn't even really remember who he was. He remembered her. He remembered that he was doing this for her because anything was worth her happiness, even death.

~*~

"You want me to do what?" Buffy asked. 

"We want you to talk to Spike."

"It's possible to talk to Spike?"

"We think so," Wes said. "We think that somehow, there is a communication path opened between you." 

Giles nodded. "It may have something to do with your connection to him, with the soul, with the Powers, or a combination of many things. But we believe your dreams are more than just dreams." 

"When do you want to do this?" Buffy asked. 

"We've been working on it while you were gone," Willow informed her. "And we're pretty close to figuring it out. In fact, I think we could have this ready to go in an hour if Angel and Xander will get our supplies." 

"We're on it," Angel said. Neither of the men were particularly fond of each other, but Willow figured they could handle working together long enough to gather a few basic supplies. 

"What do you need me to do?" Buffy asked. 

"Rest, concentrate, try to stay calm. This will work better if you aren't agitated and if you are focused." 

"Great. Rest. I can do that." She looked at her sister, "Dawn, do you mind if I use your room. I can't…"

Dawn nodded, "It's not a problem. Just don't touch my stuff." 

  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Like I would." 

~*~

Xander and Angel traveled to the law firm in silence. Angel drove, Xander clutched the list tightly, the only outward sign of his anger. 

"You're upset?" Angel finally asked.

"Are you just percepto-boy," Xander said sarcastically. 

Angel shrugged and focused his attention on the road. Wasn't his problem if the boy had a problem. 

"Why are you doing this?" Xander finally asked. 

"What?"

"Helping bring back Spike."

"I'm not." 

"Sure looks like it." 

"I'm doing what's best for Buffy. She needs help right now. That's what friends do."

"You're just friends now?" 

"I'd rather be her friend than have her out of my life."

"Could you ever just be friends? I never could just be friends with Anya…" 

"I don't have much of a choice."

"But if you could…"

"What is your point, Xander?" 

He sighed, "Nothing. I'm just not happy about being sucked into another drama involving Spike." The words sounded automatic, like there was no hard feelings behind them. 

"You hate Spike?"

No answer. 

"Do you hate William? Because he's the one that's at risk here. William is just an innocent in all of this." 

"William is Spike." 

Angel shook his head. "No. And you know that's not true." 

"I don't know him at all." 

"There's lots of thins you don't know, Xander." 

"Shut up, Deadboy." 

The exchange lacked the bitterness and sarcasm, all of that hammered out of them by living too much and seeing too much since they met. There just wasn't any more point in it, and Xander was tired. He just wanted to help his friends and be a good person…he was tired of fighting. 

~*~

It only took an hour for Angel and Xander to get the supplies and come back. Buffy was in Dawn's room, Willow in William's, gathering her strength and concentrating on the spell. Giles and Wes were still quietly pouring over texts and notes, neither eager to talk about what could happen. 

After they had assembled the circle and laid everything out, they called Willow and Buffy into the living room. Willow took her place at the head of the circle, Buffy in the middle. 

"Close your eyes Buffy. You will eventually "see" a red line. Follow it. I'll keep you tethered to this side."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"We're all here," Giles assured her. "We can keep you safe. We need you to ask Spike if he's responsible for the resurrection spells, and any other information about where he is at and what he needs us to do." 

  
Buffy swallowed hard and nodded. "What about William? He could still be alive." 

"I'll look for him," Xander volunteered. 

"I will too," Angel said, "If you don't need me here." 

"That's fine," Wes said. "If you find him, don't call. The phone may disrupt the spell." 

"Right. Gotcha." 

As soon as they left again, Willow told Buffy to close her eyes, and she started the spell. When she started, a blast of pure power was funneled into her body, and her eyes turned pure black. Both Giles and Wes were alarmed, but they didn't try to stop her. Her voice turned to a monotone, and she dropped her head, the words flowing from her effortlessly in an archaic language. 

Her voice raised, but the tone remained steady. Soon she was shouting, supplicating the Powers to give her what she demanded, and as her voice reached a hideous pitch, there was bright white light, and the ex-watchers couldn't see anything at all.

~*~

Buffy followed the blood red line of light through the pressing darkness. It _felt_ familiar, but it was impossible to tell if there was anything other than the blackness. 

"Spike? Are you here?"

"I'm here, Pet." 

"I can't see you."

"I know, but I'm right here."

"Spike, what's going on?" 

"My soul is gone, isn't it?"

"Oh god, I did this…" 

"S'ok pet."

"Are you sending the spells?" 

"I'm not personally sending them, but yeah, they're because of me. I need to get the soul back, Buffy." 

"Why?"

"Because I'm stuck here without it." 

"Spike, do you _want _to be resurrected? I'll do whatever you want me to do, but you have to tell me." 

"I want my soul back."

"Why?"

"I need it Buffy. I've always had a bit of it, and I can't _be me_ without it. Without it, I can't go back to where I was."

"Heaven? I did it, didn't I? I pull you out of Heaven."

"Don't fret, Buffy. You can fix it." 

"How?" 

"You don't have to resurrect me. You can send me back to Heaven."

"But either way, William has to die right?"

"He was a bloody worthless ponce."

"No, he's not Spike. He's…beautiful." 

She could hear his sigh, almost feel it against her skin. "You don't have to kill him, Buffy." 

"Then what?"

"Oh! Bollucks!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"I have to go, Slayer. Things will get very bloody complicated if I don't."

"Spike?" 

"Yeah?"   

"I _do_ love you, you asshole."

She could hear his smile, "I know."   
  
Then she was alone in the darkness, and she didn't know how to get out. 

~*~

The life was seeping out of William with the blood, and he knew this was finally it. They weren't going to stop this time, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He didn't resist, or struggle against their teeth. He let his body go limp, and when the bloody wrist was pressed against his lips, he didn't resist that either. 

Just as he opened his mouth to accept the blood, an enormous amount of power infused his being. He tensed, his head thrown back as he howled. Then he went limp, and the vampires in the middle of making him their new minion looked at each other, confused. 

"What the fuck was that?" Fang demanded.

"I have no fucking clue. Has that ever happened before?"

"Not that I'm aware of." 

"Is he already a vampire?"

"I've never see anybody turned that fast."

"Is he dead then?"

"I feel fine." 

They looked down at the man at their feet, who smirked back up at them. "Haven't felt this good in a long time. But you know what will make me feel better?" Spike jumped to his feet and grabbed the back of their necks. "Bashing your skulls in." 

The body was weak and fragile, nearly dead, but that didn't stop Spike. There were at least a dozen vampires in the nest, and he set about dispatching them at an almost fevered pace. He growled and he snarled as he spun around, ducking, dodging, hitting, kicking, ripping their heads off and staking them with whatever weapons he could find. 

It felt _good_ to fight again, and he had to admit to himself, nothing could top a bit of violence. As the dust burst in his face and settled around him, he couldn't help but laugh with an almost insane abandon. It was so easy to take them out, as though they were nothing but mere humans. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, _poof poof poof_. 

_Good to see ya again, mate. How ya been? _

No answer.

Come now, William, don't give me the silent treatment. 

_I've been abandoned and weak._

_I haven't abandoned you._

_Then what the hell is going on?_

_Been looking for you. But Buffy…_

_It's always about Buffy._

_Don't you want her?_

_I do._

_Can't stay_.

The final vampire ran before Spike could kill him, and suddenly, the rush was over. No more energy, no more power, nothing. William collapsed to the ground, shaking and crying, bleeding. He gasped for breath and watched the helpless tears fall to the dusty ground.  


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

William woke up in a pool of his own vomit and blood. Every single inch of his body ached, and it hurt to breathe. It even hurt to blink. But the physical pain paled in comparison to what he felt, before when _it_ was there. 

He felt the demon.

He felt the rage.

He felt like he had come home, and he remembered everything that had happened in the past 140 years. Then it was all gone, even the memories, and all he had left was the disconcerting sensation that he was missing something important, something he had before but was now destroyed forever, and a deep, abiding, tragic sense of loss.  

And he just couldn't move. He was alone in the old building, all of the vampires dead or ran away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the sun peak through a boarded up window. For now, he was safe. 

William knew that he wasn't going to die. Not anymore, not there in the abandoned building. But he wasn't going to live either if he couldn't get out of there and find help. Shaking, his stomach rolling, he pushed himself to his knees. He held perfectly still as the world spun and tilted around him. When it finally steadied, he moved his knees one inch, and then another. He couldn't look up, he had to keep his head down and eyes focused on the floor. 

His progress was slow and painstaking, each second stretching into a minute, each minute into an hour. He set a goal for himself, simply trying to follow the track of light that moved slowly across the floor. He had to pause often to catch his breath, and more than once, his legs gave out and he collapsed completely. Each time that happened, it took him longer and longer to get up. 

The fifth time William collapsed, he just didn't have the strength to get up again. He lay there, watching the dust motes dance in front of his eyes, and realized it was vampire dust. Somehow, the thought made him sick. His body wrenched weakly, but there was nothing left in his stomach, not even water. 

After he dry heaved, he couldn't even keep his eyes open. _Maybe I really am going to die here like this_, he thought, sad but resigned, _maybe this really is how it's meant to end_. Was Buffy looking for him? If she were, would she find him in this building? He wasn't even sure he was still in LA. He wasn't even sure he wanted her to find him like this. William closed his eyes—just to rest—and passed out instead. 

~*~

"What did Spike tell you?" Giles asked when she was finally ready to speak. When they had pulled her from the ether, she was shaking and terrified. She kept muttering that she was lost and Spike was lost and William was lost and everybody was lost. 

"He said that he's looking for his soul. He needs it back."

"And William has it?"

"Right. He said that he can't be _him_ without it. I asked him what he wanted me to do." 

"What did he say?"

"He said I didn't have to resurrect him, I could let him go back to Heaven. But he also said that William doesn't have to die."

"Did he expand on that?" Angel asked. 

"No, he had to go."

"Had to go where?"

Buffy shrugged. "He just said that he had to go or else things will get 'very bloody complicated.'" 

"What are we going to do now?" Dawn asked. 

"We're going to look for William." 

~*~

William didn't wake up again until after dark. Not even a bit of light filtered into the building, and he was completely disoriented. He vaguely recalled the layout of the room, and thought it was possible that if he kept moving in a straight line, he would find the door at some point. 

It was worth a shot anyway. It wasn't like he had any other options. He had no idea if, or when, vampires would return, and he had to keep moving. He pulled himself back to his hands and knees and resumed his painstaking journey. 

As he crawled, he thought of his new life, with Buffy, with Dawn. The past few months had been the happiest he had ever known, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he had a chance of fitting in somewhere. 

But at the same time, he felt as though he would always be second best to them, and he didn't want his girls to have to settle. If he thought he could fill the void that Spike had left, take care of them, make them happy, he would remain by their side for eternity. And he wanted that so badly. 

He crawled across the floor slowly, sometimes dragging himself by his fingernails. The pain in his body had not reduced, the sense of loss had not diminished, his strength had barely returned. And yet he crawled on, over the dirt and the garbage, the dust and the occasional body. 

When he was just about to pass out again, he saw it. A hint of light, peeking from under the door. The door. He had made it across the room, and he could get out. If he could get out, he could find help. The only problem was that he couldn't reach the door knob, and the door was shut tight. 

A small, dry sob wracked his body, and the little bit of determination and hope that had been sustaining withered and died. He couldn't get out. They would never think to find him there, and he couldn't get out. William fell on the floor, and stretched out. He let the tension drain from his muscles and felt his body go limp. 

For a long time, he didn't move, just laid there, counting his breaths. He didn't fall asleep or faint again, but he might as well have, because he didn't stir at all. Finally, when he felt that he had composed himself and got his frantic, desperate feelings under control, he returned to his hands and knees. He steadied himself, then pushed himself up until he was on his knees, his hands free to turn the knob. 

He grasped it, and pulled down with his body weight. The knob turned, and due to his body weight, the door swung open, letting in a gust of fresh air. William, now flat on his stomach, inhaled it deeply, happy to clear his nose and lungs of the stale dead air. 

The door opened out to an ally; a dark, garbage strewn ally. There was not a car or another person in sight, but William felt invigorated by the fresh air. If he could make it down the ally to the street, he might be able to flag somebody down. At this point, he was gasping for breath, sucking air into his lungs as hard as he could. He felt like he had just run a marathon at top speed. 

He collapsed again. 

~*~

"Buffy, we searched this area," Angel said patiently. 

"So we'll search it again." 

"If we didn't see him before…"

"Somebody could have dropped him off here, or he could have wondered over here. It doesn't hurt to look, Angel."

"Unless we're wasting time that we could be using to search other parts of the city." 

"Angel, could you trust me, please? I have a feeling." 

Angel shrugged, "I trust you Buffy." 

He drove the car up and down the city blocks, occasionally cutting through allies if they looked suspicious, or were wide enough for his car. So far, they had found nothing. Not even a hint of him. Buffy was doing the best she could to keep her growing panic at bay, but with every passing hour, she lost hope.

It had nearly been 48 hours since he left. 48 hours in which he could have been attacked by vampires, demons, or humans. 48 hours in which he could have passed out from blood loss or hunger. He could have been hit by a truck and…her mind just kept coming up with more and more awful scenarios. She was a Slayer, she knew first hand the type of horrible things that could happen to him. 

"Go down that ally," she said suddenly. 

"What?"

She jerked the steering wheel to the right, "_Turn_."

"What? What did you see?" 

"Just stop." 

Buffy jumped out of the car before Angel had eve pulled to a full stop. She ran towards the huddled mass of blood and white skin at the end, calling his name. The closer she got, the louder she called. Her insistent voice roused him from his sleep. 

"Buffy?" He croaked. 

She stopped short, horrified by the image before her. William was naked, and bleeding everywhere. He had horrible bites all over his body, and she could see the gaunt outline of his bones under his too-white skin. She fell to her knees in front of him. "William, William, what happened?" 

How did he survive an obvious attack from a whole nest of vampires? How did he manage to get out of the building? Where did his clothes go? Why was he, upon closer inspection, covered in vampire dust? 

"Angel!" 

Angel took off his coat and covered William, who had started shaking and shivering from the cold. 

"He shouldn't be alive," he muttered. 

"Hospital?"

"I'll take him back to the firm. Dr. Roberts should be able to take care of him."

Buffy gently wiped the blood off of his face and mouth, avoiding the wound on his cheek. With the blood gone, she could see the bruises. _He'll never heal from this_. _He couldn't even get over one bite, how will he survive dozens_. 

"William? Can you speak?" 

"Him," he muttered. "I felt him. Inside of me." 

"Felt who, William?"

"It hurts, Buffy." 

"I know, I know. We're going to get help now, ok?" 

Angel bent and lifted William off the ground, grimacing at the rich smell of blood and death that hung around him. And there was another smell…more of a trace, or a signature. Angel couldn't put his finger on it, but it tickled his memory. 

Buffy sat in the back seat of the car, and Angel carefully placed William in the back with her, resting his head on her leg. Buffy stroked his hair and spoke in a low, soothing voice, making promises she didn't know if she could keep. As she spoke, she ran her hands down his arms and legs and across his ribs, looking for a sign of a break or a fracture. He didn't appear to have any internal injuries. 

Angel kept glancing at the two in the back, horrified by William's condition. He shouldn't be alive, and that was it. Angel had killed enough people, maimed, murdered, bled, and tortured enough people to know how much a body can take before it expired. And William should be expired. 

"Buffy, how is his breathing?"

"Fine."

"His heartbeat is slowing." 

"Well then drive faster!" She looked down at him. "Stay with me, ok William? We're going to take care of you, I promise, you'll get better." 

William didn't give any indication that he heard her at all. 

~*~

Thirty minutes later, William was safely installed in a hospital bed, blood pumping in his body, and a whole host of healing and protection spells around him. Buffy and Angel were in his office, waiting for the rest of the gang to show up. Buffy refused to leave the building. 

"It's Spike," Angel announced, breaking the silence. 

"What's Spike?"

"The smell on William." 

"William smelled like Spike? Huh?'

"Everybody has a signature…it's a type of smell, but it's hard to explain. Anyway, William has a trace of Spike…"

"Well, that's hardly surprising is it? Spike started as William, after all." 

Angel shook his head. "No, no everybody is unique." 

"Why would William smell like Spike?"

"How could William survive that much damage and escape?" 

"I…I don't know."

"Spike said he had to go," Angel reminded her. 

"Maybe we can ask William, though he did say…"

"What?"

"William said he could _feel him_ inside." 

"You think he means Spike?"

"I don't know what to think anymore."  

~*~

"You can't go in there, Ms. Summers." 

"You can't stop me."

" He needs to rest."

"I don't plan on waking him. I just want to be there in case he wakes up." 

Dr. Roberts glance helplessly at Angel, who shrugged in return. "I suggest you just do what she says." 

With a sigh, Dr. Roberts opened the door and allowed Buffy to enter. Angel followed her inside. She grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the bed, and settled in. 

"How long you plan on staying here?"

"Until he wakes up." 

"That could be awhile." 

"I'll wait. I should be here when he wakes up." 

The wait wasn't as long as she expected. He opened his eyes within the hour, he blue dimmed and dull. 

"Hey there," she said softly. 

He looked at her and smiled as much as he could. It looked more like a grimace. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Water?" He whispered. 

"Oh, of course." She quickly poured water into a small cup from the pitcher sitting beside the bed and held it up to his lips. He drank it slowly. 

"Was that enough?"

He nodded. "Better." His voice was slightly stronger. 

"William, I want to let you rest, but I need to know what happened to you." 

"They bit me. They were going to kill me, and then…then he killed them." 

"He? Who is he, William?"

"He filled me…I could feel it…" 

"William?"

"It was Spike, Buffy. Spike saved me."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

With a shaking hand, Buffy poured a glass of water. Water spilled down the sides of the cup and onto her shoes. When she brought it to her mouth, more of it got on the front of her shirt than down her throat. 

"Are you ok?" 

Buffy's forced smile looked like a grimace of pain. "I'm fine. Water?"

William shook his head. "No, no I'm fine." 

"How do you know?"

William's brow furrowed. How did he know he was fine? Oh wait. "I…I felt him. I felt him leave, and when he left, it felt like I was being ripped in two." 

  
Buffy took several deep breaths until she calmed down. "He was actually there?" 

William nodded. 

"And what did he do?"

"He killed all the vampires." 

Before Buffy could ask another question, Wes entered the room. "Is he awake?"

Buffy stepped aside and allowed Wes to move up to the side of the bed. He studied William carefully, observing each mark, bruise, and bite. Some were small, some were large, but all of them were vicious. William was bandaged in several places where the skin and flesh had been ripped from his body completely. Beside him, the heart monitor beeped calmly, and the various IVs dripped steadily. 

"Hello," William greeted, and the calm, quiet voice coming from the mess on the bed nearly made Wes jump. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Numb." 

Wes nodded. He probably had more painkillers in his system that some people see their entire lives. He glanced at Buffy. "Spells?"

Buffy nodded. "He's covered. He already looks better." 

_This is better?_ "Buffy, can you step out in the hall? We need to talk." 

Buffy nodded. "William, I'll be right back."

He shook his head slightly. "Take your time. I'll be fine." 

As soon as the door shut behind them, Buffy spilled what William had told her. Wes listened raptly, but if he was surprised by her revelation, he didn't show it. He waited until she was finished before he said anything. 

Buffy expected him to say something about Spike, so she was surprised when he said, "It'll take something drastic for him to heal." 

"I don't know how we'll get him to heal. I can't think of anything drastic enough." 

"Why do you think Spike saved him?"

"I…I don't know. But I think he took the decision out of my hands." 

"Because he chose to save William?" 

"Exactly." 

They lapsed into silence, and Buffy could practically hear the wheels turning in Wes's head.  "I need to go talk to Giles and Angel about it first…but I think I have an idea." 

"What?"

"If Spike was in that room, he wouldn't be so close to death, would he?"

"No, he'd probably be nearly healed by now." 

"Exactly."

"I'm not following you." 

"We know that Spike can take over his body, yes? We know that Spike can be channeled into William. So why not take advantage of that?"

Realization dawned on Buffy's face. "Do you think that'll work?"

"I intend to find out." 

~*~

Dawn resented the fact that everybody was going out of their way to keep her away from William, and she especially hated the fact that they weren't giving her opinions any weight. She didn't appreciate the fact that she was stuck at home, while William was across the city, possibly dying. She busied herself by tidying his room, and when she was done there, she flopped in front of the TV. 

Xander was still there. He hadn't gone home, and she didn't ask him what he was doing. Buffy probably told him to keep an eye on her, or something equally insulting and stupid. Dawn wondered what Buffy would freak out about when she finally turned 18 and left. The thought temporarily distracted Dawn—what would Buffy do when she left? Buffy had mentioned going to school a few times, but she never made any concrete plans. This troubled Dawn more than she wanted to admit. For the first time she realized just how lost her sister truly was, without a single direction or goal past surviving until Dawn had graduated. 

"Hey Dawnie."

"Hey."

"Buffy asked me to stay," he said apologetically. 

"That's fine. But you don't have to."

"No, I want to be here in case…"

"In case what?"

Xander shrugged, "Nothing. Nothing."

"It wasn't nothing, Xander. What were you going to say?"

He sighed. "In case we get some bad news." 

"I didn't know you cared."

"I care about you. And I can see that you obviously care about William."

"I do," Dawn admitted. "He's grown on me. Do you think we're going to get bad news?"

"No. Not with Buffy on it. She wouldn't let him die. They'll think of something." 

"When Buffy called she said he looked pretty bad." 

"I imagine he did," Xander conceded. "But that doesn't mean he won't make it. He was out there for a long time. He may look worse than he really is."

"I guess so." 

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Not really." 

"Yeah, me neither." 

"How have you been, Xander?"

"I've been good. A little bit lonely though." 

Dawn nodded, but didn't say anything. It stood to reason that he would be lonely. "You never come over anymore." 

"I guess without pain and terror we kind of grew apart." 

"There was more to the Scooby gang than pain and terror," Dawn reminded him. 

"I know. How about this? When the excitement finally settles down, we'll have a dinner and a movie night. Just the four of us." 

"Five," Dawn corrected.

"Just the five of us," Xander amended. 

The phone rang then, screeching in the silence. Dawn dove to answer it. "Hello?"  
  


"Dawn, hey. It's me. I'm not coming home tonight, and I need you to do me a favor."

"What? Is William ok?"

"William is…alive. Can you clean his room and wash his sheets?" 

"Sure." 

"Make it as clean as possible, ok?"

"No problem. When will you bring him home?"

Buffy sighed. "I don't know. Soon. We have to do something, to try something…we don't know if it'll work." 

"Is he going to be ok?"

"Of course, Dawn," Buffy soothed. "Of course. We're just looking into ways to make him get better faster. Is Xander still there?"

"Yeah."

"Let me talk to him." 

"Ok." She silently handed the phone to Xander. 

"Hey, Buff."

"I need to talk to you Xander. So listen up…" As she spoke, Xander's eyes widened and his hands grew clammy. 

~*~

"So how are we going to break this to William?" Willow asked. 

"As gently as possible," Buffy said. "Though I'm not entirely sure what to tell him."

"The truth," Giles suggested. 

Buffy turned worried eyes to her old watcher. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"I'm sure," Giles promised.

"But what if it doesn't?"

"It's a chance we'll have to take," Wes interjected. "William's vitals are…"

"I know," Buffy said softly. "I know. We're losing him." 

Since William had first opened his eyes, he had grown more and more weak. His pulse was decreasing at a slow, but steady rate. His blood pressure was falling. His breath was coming harder,  shallow. He was holding onto consciousness, but just barely. They needed to act fast, and she needed to explain their plan to him as soon as possible. 

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Angel asked. 

Buffy shook her head. "No, I need to explain it to him alone. He doesn't…."

"I know, Buffy. He trusts you."

"Right." She squared her shoulders and walked purposely to his room. "Right." 

He greeted her with a slight nod and a cough when she opened the door. She immediately handed him a glass of water, and he took it gratefully. "How are you feeling?"

William shook his head sadly. He gestured to his throat to indicate that he couldn't speak. Buffy's heart twisted. With a gentle hand, she wiped some blood that had soaked through his bandage and began to drip down his neck. More precious blood that he could not afford to lose. The only way to save this body was to kill it…

"William, I need you to listen to me carefully, ok? We think we have an idea of how to heal you, but we can't do it unless you agree to it." 

He nodded. 

"When Spike saved you, your body was stronger, right? So strong that he could kill all those vampires, even though you were badly injured. The reason for that is because when the demon takes over the body, it uses powerful animating magic. This magic can make a weak body strong, and a sick body well. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He nodded. 

"We have a spell…one of the many that we've received. This spell will allow us to channel Spike—that is, his demon—into your body." 

William's eyes widened as the implication of her words set in. He had survived only to be discarded. It was clear from the expression on her face, however, that she thought this was the right thing, and so he held his broken heart in check. He had been so happy to see her again, had tried to hard to get to her again…he didn't want to leave her. But if this was how it had to be, then he would not fight them. He nodded. 

"William, I know what you're thinking. I'm not getting rid of you, or sending you away. We can bring Spike back long enough to heal your body, to make you strong and well again, and then…" 

Her voice caught as _she_ realized the implications. And then he would be gone again. And then she would lose him again. And then she would be alone again. With a deep, shuddering breath, she pushed those thoughts aside. Spike had already made this decision—he saved William. He said William wouldn't have to die. Buffy wasn't about to lose him now, the only innocent in this mess. 

"And then, he'll leave, and you'll be back."

"No…Buffy." 

"Shhh, don't try to speak. You aren't strong enough. We've thought about this a lot, William, and we just don't think you'll make it any other way." 

"Don't want…to…hurt you."

She shook her head. "You won't hurt me. We're going to put you to sleep now, William. When you come back, you'll be as good as new." 

Wes, who had been waiting in the hall, entered the room there armed with several charms that would work for the spell. Buffy gripped William's hand as Willow entered the room and began to chant. 

"Buffy?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."  
  
Then his eyes were closed, his face lax, and for all the world, he looked like a dead man.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Shocked, and mildly horrified, Buffy stumbled back from the bed. Wes and Willow continued to chant, and she vaguely heard Giles join in. She couldn't take her eyes off of William's pale face, though she badly wanted to look away. Her heart pounded, and waves of uneasy regret washed over her. She shouldn't have done this. She shouldn't have risked this. She needed to go. 

Buffy turned to flee the room, but Giles grabbed her. "Buffy! You can't leave."

"I have to," she gasped. "I have to. I can't stay." 

"Buffy we need you to stay in here." Giles' voice was loud, nearing panic. "Spike will need you." 

"I can't. You don't understand, Giles. He…I…I'm killing him. I can't…"

Willow and Wes's voice climbed higher, and a shiver danced across Buffy's body. She was _buzzing_, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. The air hummed and cackled with electricity, and a bright flash of light illuminated the room in a grotesque white. Giles clutched Buffy's arms and spun her around. "You have to go to him." 

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't watch him die."

"He's not going to die, Buffy." 

Giles voice was calm, firm, but it didn't reassure her. She knew what they were doing—they were turning him into a vampire. Vampire meant death. Which meant William was gone. They hadn't thought this through. How would they send Spike away and keep William? They couldn't, because he was _dying_, and after Spike left all that would be was dust. 

"He's going to be dust," she said frantically. "I can't do that to him, Giles!"

"Buffy, you need to get a hold of yourself. He is not going to turn into dust."

Behind them, on the bed, the body started to quiver, and then to shake. "Buffy," Wes called. "We need you to hold him down." 

Violent tremors forced him nearly off the bed. It looked like he was being electrocuted, his body flopping around like a fish out of water. She watched with growing horror, sure that the power surging through his body would break him. A horrible stench filled the air. Burnt flesh. Blood. Sizzling hair. Fear. Giles pushed her, not gently, towards the bed. She stumbled over her feet, trying to stop even as the momentum sent her tumbling into the side of the hospital bed. 

She grabbed his arm automatically, and her skin sizzled at the touch. She jerked away as hard as she could, frightened and injured. "You're burning him!" But Wes and Willow continued to ignore her, caught up in the power of their words. The magic swirled around them, in living green and blood red. It encompassed the bed, and included Buffy. It made a barrier between her and the door, and all she could do was duck her head to avoid touching it. She knew, instinctively, that it would hurt her beyond anything she could imagine. 

"Buffy! You need to hold him down!" 

Buffy shifted her attention from the bright magic, growing thicker by the second, to the body. He was shaking so hard that she could hear his teeth rattle in his head, and the bandages had fallen off of his skin. The wounds were torn open, and blood burst forth, gushing at an alarming rate. It covered Buffy's face and hair, stained her shirt, she could even taste it in her mouth. 

Without a second though, she jumped onto his body, straddling his hips and pushing his shoulders down. He went as stiff as a board, his entire body tense, his muscles as hard as rocks. His hand was forced back, and a horrible sigh escaped his mouth. 

_It's the death rattle,_ Buffy thought. _That's what they call a death rattle. This is death. I'm killing him. _ But she didn't move from her position. She realized that the chanting had stopped, but the magic still spun around them, so fast that if Buffy concentrated on it, it made her sick. 

Spike's body went slack beneath her, the tension draining out of him so quickly that she lost her balance. She fell forward on him with a loud "Oompfh", knocking the breath out of her body. Her head hit his, and she saw stars. "Fuck!" 

"Buffy? Are you ok?"

Buffy pushed herself up. "Yeah, I'm super." 

She braced herself on the sides of the hospital bed, using the bars to support her weight so she didn't hurt Spike. Or what she hoped was Spike. At that point, she didn't have any indication that was more than just a dead body. Blood was everywhere, soaking her clothes and his. His body was completely lax, and he wasn't breathing. The heart monitor was silent. Buffy stared at him, willing him to move, to breath, to do something. _Open your eyes_. 

"Did it work?" 

"I don't know, Buffy. It might take a few minutes."

"He's dead." 

The finality of the statement brought them all up short. Giles and Wes looked at each other, unwilling to move closer to the bed. Had they really killed him? Willow was paralyzed to the spot, unable to move. She was shocked by what they had just done, and the way they room looked. It looked as though they just slaughtered somebody in the most brutal fashion possible. 

"He'll need blood," Wes said, rather optimistically. 

Nobody moved, immediately. Nobody could move. Their bodies were transfixed as they gazed intently at the crimson soaked body on the bed. II'm sitting on a dead man/I, Buffy thought. 

"I'll go," Giles said.

He left the room as quickly as he could and almost immediately ran into Angel. "Did it work?"

Giles shrugged helplessly. "I wouldn't go in there though, it's…rather messy." 

"What happened?"

"I don't know, Angel. But I need to get blood, in case it did work. William…Spike…lost a substantial amount during the spell." 

"How? That wasn't blood magic."

"His wounds were reopened." 

"If he lost too much, he's going to be famished when he wakes up," Angel warned. "They may not be safe in there with him." 

"Perhaps he'll be too weak to attack them. Even so, tell Wesley and Willow to leave. You stay in there with Buffy, as back up." 

"Ok. There's blood in my office." 

Angel didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this carnage. He walked over to Wes and a short, quite conversation. The girls ignored him, their attention still focused on Spike. Wes nodded and gently grabbed Willow's hand, leading her out of the room. She went without protest, but she never looked away from the bed. 

  
Buffy was staring intently at his Spike's face, as though she could will him to life. Angel wondered why she was sitting on top of him, and why she didn't wipe the drying blood out of her eyes. Her face was pink, the harsh red diluted by her silent tears. How long had she been crying? 

Angel heard Buffy's small squeal before he saw Spike stir. Spike's face shifted, and a growl erupted from his throat. Angel sprang forward, prepared to help Buffy if necessary, but when Buffy seemed totally unfazed, Angel paused, confused. Buffy didn't even realize the other vampire was in the room. Her world was centered around Spike. 

She didn't look the least afraid of him, even though Spike was growling and his yellow eyes were rolling wildly. He began to buck his hips to force the Slayer's weight off of his body, but she just held onto him, grimly determined to get his attention, to make him realize it was her. 

"Spike!" 

He just continued his insane growling and bucking, the need to feed all consuming, the smell of his own blood driving him past the point of intoxication. Buffy knew the only reason she wasn't on the floor was because Spike was just too weak. He didn't seem to know where he was, or who he was, he just wanted to escape from her and find food. Angel quickly moved to the bed and grasped Spike's knees, forcing the lower half of his body to remain still. 

  
Buffy did the first thing she could think of to calm him down. With a reckless disregard for her own safety—and by extension everybody else's—she put her wrist to his mouth. He didn't need encouragement. He bit her instantly and began sucking her blood greedily. Angel gasped in outrage, but Buffy ignored him. The more Spike drank, the more his eyes cleared—the foggier she became. Just when the dizziness was overtaking her, Spike released her wrist. 

"Slayer?" 

The loss of blood, the relief of hearing his voice, the fear, the magic that still hung in the room, the lack of sleep—everything—worked against her. She felt herself grow light headed, and realized that she was slumping forward. 

"Buffy?"

She didn't hear him say her name—she had already passed out on top of his exhausted, broken, bloody body.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Spike and Angel regarded each other over Buffy's still body silently. The only sound in the room was her steady breathing. Spike's body ached and throbbed, but he could already fill the skin begin to grow and cover his bare flesh. The Slayer bloody coursing through his veins aided the healing process. 

He was alive. As alive as he'd ever been, that was. He could feel the soul struggle against the demon, pitifully, weakly. He could feel Buffy's heart thudding against his chest. He could feel her life in his body, her soft flesh, her smooth skin. With a shaking hand, he pushed some stray hair away from her forehead so he could see her face and wiped the blood from her cheek. 

Spike caressed her face, his fingers roaming across her cheek and lips, and then down her neck. He rubbed her back and arms with the flat of his hands, making sure she was ok, unsure of where all the blood was coming from. When he was satisfied that she wasn't injured, that all the blood had come from him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. 

Angel watched all of this without saying a word or making a move to stop Spike. He knew he would need to move Buffy off of Spike, find a bed for her, clean her up, and get a doctor to examine her, but something held him back from moving. Perhaps it was the clear wonder on Spike's face as he kissed her cheek. Perhaps it was the way he held her—like she was the most precious treasure in the world. Perhaps it was just simple shock that this crazy plan had _actually _worked. 

Finally though, Angel moved to pull Buffy out of Spike's grasp. 

"No," he protested, his grip tightening. 

"I have to. She may need help."

"She's fine." 

"Spike." Angel hoped he sounded more threatening than he felt. "Let her go." 

Spike lifted her head from his chest and kissed her dry lips, then moved his arms away from her. Angel gently scooped her into his arms, and Spike struggled to sit up. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting up, aren't I?"

"You can't, you're still week." 

" 'M fine." 

"Spike, lay down." 

"Funny, Peaches, I don't recall you being my keeper." 

"She just needs to sleep, you don't need to come with us." 

"I'm not letting her out of my sight," Spike declared, looking at Angel with defiant eyes. Angel sighed and contemplated knocking Spike out. Just whacking him on the head as hard as he could. 

Instead, Angel decided to try to be reasonable and compromise. He knew Buffy would be pissed if she woke up only to find that Spike had driven him to violent and extreme measures. "Let me get her cleaned up and checked, and then we'll set up a bed in here." 

"Is she ok? What's wrong wit her?"

"You fucking drained her," Angel snapped. 

Spike's jaw clenched. "Fine, I'll stay here." 

Angel observed the other vampire for another second before he left the room. Angel knew it was the same body as before, the same face—William's face—but Spike just looked different. And already his accent had changed. Angel unconsciously tightened his hold on the deceptively slight girl in his arms. Without another word, he left the room, Spike never moving his eyes from Angel's back until he was completely out of sight. 

He already missed Buffy. 

Spike had not expected any of this to happen. He didn't expect to wake up with the Slayer on top of him, and he didn't plan on sucking her dry. Had she really brought him back? She seemed so adamant that she would not sacrifice William for him…what had changed her mind? What had happened? 

_You there, mate?_

_Hurts._

_I know._

_There's no room._

_Well, make room._

Had he really hurt her? He hadn't been thinking clearly—still wasn't thinking clearly really, and she just shoved her wrist in his face. The hot blood, pulsing so close to the surface of her skin made him heady with need. How could he have resisted that? And then the blood had exploded in mouth, gushed down his throat, filled and warmed his body until he felt like he was on fire, and he was so hard that he couldn't stand it. Besides, he had stopped, right? He had stopped before he took too much.

_You hurt her_.

Shut up, I never.

A fan turned on in the air vent, and Spike gagged as the smell of the drying blood—his drying blood—hit his nostrils. Jesus Christ, wasn't anybody going to come in and help him clean up at least? What the hell was going on here? It wasn't like these people had ever been scared of him…but then, maybe he shouldn't expect them to be that considerate. 

Fortunately, his strength was increasing incrementally as the seconds ticked by. He could not stay in that room for much longer. He kicked the sides of the bed down, and swung his legs over the side. Good, half way there. He paused for a moment, gathering his strength, before slowly straightening his legs until his feet touched the floor. Bracing himself on the bed, he put all his weight on his legs and stood up. 

Spike swayed by the bed for several seconds, fighting the battle to stay upright. He could feel the remnants of the magic that sucked him back to Earth out of limbo, and it made his skin crawl and left a bad taste in his mouth. He hated magic, had always been sensitive to it, and now it was almost painful. 

Slowly, he made his way across the room. He just took it one step at a time, and he was very careful to avoid slipping on the blood on the floor. What the hell had happened? Who bled him? Buffy wasn't injured and neither was Angel—was there another person in the room who got hurt? There was just no way this much blood could come from him. 

He reached the door quicker than he thought he would, and he opened it proudly, relieved. Once in the hallway, things were much more sterile. He could easily pick on Buffy and Angel's smell and follow it like a sign down the hallway. He only had to walk a short distance before he found the room. He opened the door without knocking. 

They were all huddled around a hospital bed, identical to his, but this one was clean. Buffy had been scrubbed until her skin was pink, and she looked to be sleeping peacefully. He strained until he heard her heartbeat and assured himself that it was normal and healthy. Angel noticed him first.

"Spike, what are you doing out of bed?"

"It stinks in there."

"I'm sorry it offended your delicate sensibilities, Spike, but you need to rest and heal." 

"Since when you do care about my well-being?"

Giles cut in then. "Spike, it is imperative that you let yourself heal." 

Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What is this?"

Giles put a friendly hand on his shoulder, and Spike jerked back so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. Silently, Willow pulled a chair over to Buffy's bedside while Spike glared at the men in the room. 

"Spike, why don't you have a seat," she invited. 

Purposely, Spike crossed the room to the chair and collapsed onto it with an audible sigh of relief. Angel and Giles glanced at each other uneasily, unsure of what they should do next. 

As soon as Spike was close enough to touch Buffy, he ignored everybody else. Let them hover, he didn't care. He didn't know what they were on about, or why they were acting so strangely, but that was hardly any concern of his. His only concern was Buffy. He just wanted to look at her—it had been an eternity since he last saw her. She hadn't changed much. She looked a little older, and he noted with satisfaction that she had gained a little weight, but she was still the same Buffy. Still beautiful. Still glowing with an inner-strength that blinded him. 

Spike lifted her hand from the bed and cupped it in his own. He simply held it and gazed at her as everybody else looked on. Her wrist was bandaged, a stark reminder of what he had done. He waited for Angel or Giles to get on his case about it, but they remained silent. Willow must have seen something of his horror and grief over what he had done on his face, because she touched his back gently. 

"She's fine. She's just resting. She hasn't slept in a long time." 

"Did she lose too much blood?"

Willow shook her head. "No, she didn't even need a transfusion. She'll be fine. You can go back to bed if you want."

"No."

"I think it might be a good idea if…"

"No." 

"Ok, ok, Spike, you don't have to. It's cool." She stepped back from him and beckoned to Giles and Angel, indicating that they should leave. All three of them shuffled to the door, loath to leave Buffy alone, but knowing that it would be for the best. The last thing they needed was Spike to overly angry or agitated. 

As soon as the door closed, Spike leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. "Don't know what's going on here, Slayer. Don't know why you brought me back, or why your group isn't trying to kill me again. But I'm glad I'm here, Buffy. I missed you. Heaven just isn't right without you there, you know?" 

Spike kissed her cheek and rested his head on the pillow besides her. She didn't move. He remained content to watch her sleep and to count her breaths. His breathing matched hers, and he was so close to her that they were sharing air. Soon, he fell asleep. 

~*~

Buffy felt like she was floating. Lethargic, calm, sedate. Honey and chocolate surrounded her, and she felt like she was suffused in the sweet liquid, felt it seeping into her body, felt like she couldn't move even if she wanted to. 

From a great distance, she heard his voice rumbling like a distant, summer thunder on a long hot night. It was comforting, not alarming, and she let it roll over and pass her. She couldn't make out the words, but that didn't matter. She just needed to hear his voice. 

She felt him touch her. It felt like sunlight breaking through a winter storm, just long enough to warm the chilled skin, thaw the frozen hair and lips. She gravitated towards it naturally, thrilled that the heat could reach her through the sweet thickness. It felt good, and she longed to feel it everywhere. She wanted the fire to spread through her, and she moaned for more. 

It was dark so she couldn't see him, but he knew he was there. Knew exactly where he was. With a great effort, she forced her arm to move so she could reach for him. She grabbed him, grasped him, desperately, and curled her hand around his arm. He bent over her, like a prince in a fairy tale, and kissed her until she was awake. 

Buffy opened her eyes and looked right into Spike's. He was staring at her intently, as though he was afraid she would never wake up again. He blinked when she opened her eyes, and then smiled. She smiled in return. 

"You're awake." 

"So are you." 

"What are you doing out of bed?" 

"I couldn't stay away from you. You passed out, I was scared that I had hurt you."

She shook her head. "You didn't hurt me."

"How are you feeling now?"

"I feel great." 

She looped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer until their lips touched. She sighed into his mouth, closed her eyes, and let his lips take her back to the place of chocolate and honey. 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Buffy made room, and Spike crawled into the bed with her. They curled around each other, her head resting his shoulder, their legs twined together. 

"You ok?" She asked. 

"Feel fine. Are _you_ ok?" 

"Better now." 

He kissed the top of her head, then sighed, and kissed her again. She tilted her face up, and he peppered her forehead, cheeks, and lips with short, soft kisses. He covered her lips again, slowly intoxicating her with the gentle exploration of her mouth, is tongue delving deep into the softness. She happily kissed him back, relieved to feel his warm lips again. Wait…warm? 

They pulled back from each other at the same time, staring at each other questioningly. 

"Do you hear that?" Spike asked. 

"What?"

"Buffy, why do I have a heartbeat?"

"Your heart is beating?"

"I'm breathing too." 

"Are you sure?"

"Uh, yeah. Vampire here, I can hear my heart pretty clearly."

"Are you still a vampire?"

His face shifted, his fangs extended. He grinned at her, and then shook it off. "Looks like it." 

"Ok, this is really weird." She took a deep breath and shouted, "Giles!" as loud as she could. 

Spike winced. "Warn a bloke the next time you do that, Slayer, it bloody hurts."

"Sorry. Giles, get in here now!"

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. His ears would stop ringing eventually. Fortunately, Giles showed up before she had a chance to blow his eardrums out completely. 

"What? What is it? Is someone hurt?"

Buffy pointed to Spike. "He has a heartbeat."

"And?"

"And? And? I bloody well shouldn't have a heartbeat!" 

"Well, obviously the plan wouldn't work if the body had died," Giles pointed out. "Apparently, the body needed to be near death for the demon to take it over, hence the extraordinary loss of blood, but not completely dead." 

"Plan?"

Buffy's eyes widened and she spoke quickly before Giles could launch into a spiel of their great and wonderful plan. "It's nothing, Spike, we'll talk about it later."

"I want to talk about it now. What's going on? Why did you bring me back?"

Buffy was going to suggest they discuss when he had healed and was stronger, but decided that might not be a good idea. It would probably start a huge, knock-down, kick-ass fight and Buffy wasn't interested in that…much. Ok, she wanted to spar with him again, but not like that. 

"We brought you back because we needed to heal William's body," Buffy admitted softly. 

Spike untangled himself from her, and pulled himself out of the bed. "I see."

"No, Spike…"

"I should have realized it. Of course you wouldn't bring me back because you wanted me, no, no, you just found a new way to use me."

"Spike, I thought…"

"Will we fit another round of Kick-The-Spike in before you kill me again?" He looked at Buffy. "You of all people should know better." 

"Spike, I didn't know what else to do! William was going to _die_. Period. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"You should have let him."

"You shouldn't have saved him, Spike! He would have died in that old warehouse, he would have died from all the blood loss, but you saved him. Why did you do that, Spike?"

"Because he didn't deserve to die like that again." 

The admission effectively silenced the room; neither Buffy nor Giles knew how to respond to that. Spike never looked away from Buffy, waiting for her to do or say something. 

Finally, she spoke. "Spike, this would be easy if William was just like you. Or if William was a giant jerk. Or if I didn't spend the past several months getting to know who he is, what his dreams are, and his hopes, and his poetry. I couldn't just let him die. At the end of the day, I'm still the Slayer. I still protect the innocent, and you can't get much more innocent than William. I'm sorry that we had to do this to you. I can't make you leave again, though. That decision is yours to make." 

"And you'll just resent me for the rest of your life if I don't decide to go, is that right?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, no I won't resent you. I said it's your decision, and it is." 

"I need a cig. And a drink. And some real clothes." 

Giles nodded and quietly left the room, leaving them to sort the rest of this out in private. 

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. "I didn't mean to hurt you like this." 

"It'll just take some time to adjust, is all. How long did you expect I needed to stay?"

"A week, maybe? We didn't know how fast it would work, or if it would work at all."

"Then what? _Poof_, goodbye Spike?"

"Yeah."

"A week, huh?"

"Maybe. Maybe longer." 

He began walking towards the bed slowly, apparently, his anger gone. "You have any ideas on how to pass the time? I get bored." 

She smiled. "A few, maybe." 

"Maybe?" He took another step, and then grabbed her waist and pulled her forward, closing the distance between them. "What do you have in mind?" 

Spike gently pulled the hair away from her face and kissed her jaw. "Oh, I don't know, maybe read a few books." 

He kissed her neck. "Uh huh. You read?"

"Hey! I read a lot." 

He licked her pulse. "What else?"

"Maybe watch some TV. You can catch up on Passions." 

He pulled at her skin softly with his lips. "Don't suppose you taped it for me?"

"I must have forgot."

He bit her with the blunt, human teeth and she whimpered. "That it?" 

"Walks. Walks are…oh God, Spike." 

"Hmmm?"

"Don't stop what you're doing." 

"Don't plan to. Miss me, pet?"

"Uh huh." 

He walked her backwards until her legs hit the bad. His lips skimmed her throat, and then lower. He bit her nipple gently through her shirt, and she gasped as hot lust fully exploded in her, making her wet, making her tingle. 

"Spi—ike." 

"Hmmmm?"

"That feels really good." 

Spike grasped the bottom of her shirt, intending to pull it over her head, but was stopped by the sound of approaching feet and the opening of the door. He let her go and stepped back quickly. 

"I brought you some clean clothes. I couldn't find any cigarettes, but Angel has some fine scotch…" 

Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but took the offered gift with a slight nod of appreciation. 

"I trust the two of you worked everything out?"

"Nearly." 

"Angel wants to know if you'd like him to drive you home tonight, Buffy." 

"We'll both go."

"Do you think that's wise?" Giles asked. 

"Yes, I do." 

"Wesley wants to talk to him too, about the spell."

"He can come over tomorrow. We've had enough excitement for one day," Buffy said. 

As they spoke, Spike quietly changed from his hospital gown to his jeans and t-shirt. He observed the pair's exchange, noting with interest that Giles seemed much more respectful of Buffy than he had before…well, before. It looked as though their relationship had smoothed over, which pleased Spike. She needed her watcher in her life, whether she knew it or not. 

Spike wondered what her relationship with Angel was. It was clear that they were working together, and they were close, but was that it? Spike thought it probably was, or else she wouldn't allow him to feed off her wrist and give her big hickeys. He couldn't help but laugh quietly as Giles did his best to keep his eyes from the large mark on her neck. 

"Yes, well," Giles finally said. "Angel will be around shortly. And we'll drop by tomorrow morning?"

"Afternoon. I'm still exhausted." 

"We'll bring sandwiches." 

"Thanks."

Giles looked at Spike one final time, and then left the room. 

"Staying over at your place, huh? Am I taking the couch?"

"No, but I can tell you one thing you probably will be taking."

He smirked. "I like the sounds of that."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Buffy fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She wanted to stay up with Spike, but she just could not keep her eyes open. The ride home with Angel had been tense, but not unbearable. Spike remained silent in the back seat, also exhausted, and not in the mood to fight with Peaches. He thought he just wanted to sleep, but by the time they got to Buffy's place, he wasn't that tired anymore. 

He lay on his side, watching Buffy sleep, listening to the rise and fall of her breath. They were in her bedroom, but even with clean bedding, he could still smell William all over the place. Had they been sharing a bed? Were they more than just friends? Spike felt very odd thinking like that—him but not him. It was disconcerting feeling jealous over the man he once was. 

Very odd. 

Spike didn't understand what her relationship was like with him. She was adamant that William would not die, and he detected that she had strong feelings for him. This was troubling. Mainly because Spike had no idea where he fit in all this mess. What did she expect from him? Did she really think that he would leave again, no muss no fuss? Did she want him to? 

Spike didn't want to. Spike liked heaven well enough. It was relaxing. It was just like Buffy had said it was. And that sense of completion and peace was really quite amazing. He already missed it, and that too was tearing him up inside. For the first time, he could really, _really_ understand what Buffy had been going through when she came back But at the same time, Earth had two things that Heaven didn't at the moment: Buffy and his soul. And if her little plan worked, they would both remain on Earth and he would go…where? Back to limbo? He'd rather stay with Buffy—especially this new Buffy that had her life together and seemed much more comfortable with her feelings. 

His stomach growled and he shifted uncomfortably. He knew he was hungry, but he really didn't know what his body needed. Blood? Probably not. He was still full of rich, heady, sweet Slayer's blood. So that must mean he wanted regular food. Pushing aside his complicated and confusing thoughts of where he belonged and what he should do, he got out of bed and pulled on his clothes, determined to find something to eat. 

He walked slowly into the kitchen, keeping one hand on the wall to help keep his balance. Spike stopped short when he saw her though, standing in the kitchen. Her hair was a bit shorter, and she was no longer the coltish girl with limbs too long for her body. In fact, she didn't look like a girl at all. His Bit had grown up. 

"Hello Dawn," he greeted softly. She spun around to face him. 

"William?" She frowned and looked at him. "Spike?" 

"The one and only." 

"They brought you back?"

"Apparently." 

"How?"

"I don't know, bit. Just woke up, and here I was." 

"And William?"

"He's still here…somewhere." 

"Oh." 

They stood with the width of the kitchen separating them. Spike was unsure of what he should do. Last year they had hardly been on friendly terms, though he liked to think that by the time he died, she didn't hate him quite so much. She took a step forward, and Spike moved aside to let her pass. Instead though, she surprised them both by throwing herself against him and wrapping her arms around him. 

"You weren't supposed to _die_," she said against his shoulder. "You weren't supposed to die." 

Spike slowly wrapped his arms around her and hugged him back. Well, at least she wasn't going to set him on fire. That was something. "Sorry, Niblet." 

She took a step back from him, and looked at him with swimming blue eyes. He noted that she was as tall as him now. That also was disconcerting. "You're staying?'

"I don't know. What has Buffy told you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I didn't know they were bringing you back…why did they?"

Spike lifted his shirt to reveal his torso—still badly damaged and bruised, despite the fact that his body had been slowly patching itself up for several hours. "They need me to fix him up."

"Oh God," she breathed. "I didn't know it was this bad. They wouldn't let me see him, and Buffy didn't really give me any details. Who did this?"

"About a dozen vampires, apparently."

"God, I can't believe he did that."

"How did get there, Dawn?"

"He ran away. Left a note that basically said he wasn't going to stand in the way of bringing you back. Buffy had been dragging her feet on the issue, not deciding anything one way or the other. So he made the decision for her."

"What a martyr."

"You're one to talk." 

"Touché Bit."

"How did he survive that anyway? It looks pretty brutal. And twelve vampires? He couldn't fight off a fly." 

"I saved him." 

"Wow, you're full of surprises." 

"It's a good thing we ran into each other. It looks like you're about as ignorant of what's going on as I am." 

Dawn sighed. "As usual. So once your body is all better, then what?" 

Spike sat down, too tired to support himself any longer. "What do you want?"

"What?"

"Would you like William back? I can't imagine why you would. He's a limp, soft, sap."

"He's not," Dawn protested. "He reminds me of you." 

"Yeah? How so?"

"He loves Buffy very much, but then, that's a given isn't it? I wouldn't expect any less from him."

"That all?"

"It's little things. He's you and you're him, right?"

"Not really."

"Close enough." 

"So, would you like him back?"

"I don't know, Spike. How am I supposed to answer that? I _like_ William, and I feel sorry for him." 

"I feel sorry for him too," Spike admitted. 

"What does Buffy want?"

"She says it's my decision."

"Not surprised, she wouldn't make it before."

"I don't think it's fair to make her now," Spike said. "I guess I should be relieved she's not falling all over herself to send me away again." 

"You know, the only reason you're in this mess right now is because she missed you so much." 

"I know. So then why does this have to be so bloody complicated?"

"Why are you making it complicated? I thought it would be a simple matter for you." 

"It should be, shouldn't it? I mean, I can just announce that I'm not going anywhere, and everybody better get used to it." 

"So why don't you?" 

"I don't know," Spike answered honestly. "I guess because I'm a whole 'do the right thing' kick." 

"And what's the right thing?"

"I have to get back to you on that, Bit."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The meeting was small, on Spike's request. He said that he would tolerate Angel if he had to, and he didn't have any problems with Giles there either. He didn't know the other watcher, but Buffy seemed to trust him, so that was good enough for him. But he refused to let Willow, Xander, or the Bit in on the conversation. He wasn't comfortable with a crowd. Buffy, really left with no choice, respected that. 

Dawn, however, did not. She whined like she was seven instead of seventeen. She begged. She bribed. She wanted to be in on the action, she didn't want to be left out anymore. She said that she thought Spike of all people would understand that, and why was he being such a jerk? Spike, a few years out of practice when it came to dealing with her, caved rather quickly. 

  
She listened quietly as Buffy, with the help from the other three, caught Spike up on what had happened. Buffy explained what possessed her to attempt to bring him back, Wes explained about the prophecies and the oracle, and Giles talked about how William had adjusted to his new life with Buffy in the 21st century. Spike rarely interrupted, but his face and body language revealed more than any words could have. 

Annoyance. Anger. Incredulity. More annoyance. A snort of disgust. And finally, confusion. He had hoped that once everybody explained everything to him, clearly and in great detail, his decision would be easier to make. Apparently, he had thought wrong. He remembered what it was like to be completely selfish in every way, only giving as much of himself as he needed to get some sort of reward back. Those were good times. Simple times. 

_Why are you doing this to me?_

_I'm not doing anything._

_You're making me feel guilty._

_No, I'm not._

_Yes, you are_. 

"Well, why do we have to choose?" Dawn asked suddenly. "Can't we, you know, merge them? Make a vampire/human hybrid? He can be like Blade!"

"What?"

"You know, so we don't have to choose." 

"Dawnie…"

"Bit, I'm already a vampire/human hybrid. This body is still alive. And William is still here," Spike explained patiently. 

"Oh. So you're like a human with super strength?"  
  


"I guess." 

"Yes," Wes said. "The body is still alive. Which means that regardless, he'll age and die like the rest of us."

"Is he still allergic to sunlight?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know. I suppose we could test it."

_You love her, don't you?_

_More than anything._

_So do I. _

Spike sighed. He felt like killing something. But Buffy wouldn't let him leave because his body was still too wounded and fragile. She wouldn't let him do anything except sleep and sit around, and he was getting _really_ bored. The kind of bored that usually led to really bad ideas and ass-kickings. The kind of bored that usually got him into more trouble than he had any right to be in. The kind of bored that made his skin itch and his blood boil and his temper rise. 

He began to fidget.

And what did that wanker do anyway that was so great? Why did his girls like William so much? He honestly did not get it at all. 

Because I'm a part of you. 

_You think that's all? _

_Yes. _

"Spike, are you ok?"

"I'm fine." 

"We can stop for the day, if you're tired."

"I'm not tired. All I bloody well do anymore is sleep." 

Buffy was startled by his tone. "Oh. Well, what would you like to do." 

"I'd like to get out of here." 

He didn't wait for her response, instead he jumped out of his seat and stormed out of the apartment, leaving five surprised people in his wake. 

"Has he done that before?"

"No," Buffy answered. "He's been pretty calm and non-Spike like, actually." 

"Are you going to go after him?" 

Buffy stood up and stretched. "I guess so. God knows what trouble he'll find if I don't." 

It took her nearly a half hour, but she found him. He had found the tobacco shop a few blocks down, and was sitting outside, fuming. 

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have any cash." 

"Do you think you should be smoking?"

"Yes, Slayer, I do. I think I should be smoking a lot, in fact. And drinking. And fighting. Do you even patrol anymore?"

"Not really. Angel's crew has that covered. They ask me to help occasionally, but I'm mainly retired from my Slayer duties." 

"Then what the hell do you do for fun around here? This town is _full_ of demons and vamps, you know, and you just sit around and let the bloody Ponce have all the fun?"

"Spike, I don't have a lot of time for fun. I have a job and Dawn, and slaying wasn't _that_ fun anyway." 

"Killing stuff isn't fun? You're insane. Come with me." 

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to find us a nest of badies." 

"Spike, we can't fight now."

"Why not?"

"Because you're weak and I don't have any weapons." 

Spike scowled at her. "I am _not_ weak. I'm just fine. And, please, like you really need a weapon." 

"I haven't trained or practiced for a long time."

"What's with all the excuses? I can see that you want to go, so let's _go_ already." 

"I don't want you to get hurt again, Spike." 

"No, you don't want to your _precious William_ to get hurt again. You know if he does than I'll have to stay longer, and we can't have that." 

That's it, piss her off.

Shut up.

"You wanna pick a fight with me now, Spike? Will that make you feel better?"

"Maybe." 

"Ok, ok, let's fight." She punched him in face, but it was a pretty weak imitation of one, and it amused him more than hurt him.   

"You haven't trained for awhile, Slayer. Maybe it's a good thing you don't go out anymore. You'd get yourself killed, punching like that." 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Spike? I don't want to fight you." 

He punched her back, but his was just as gentle. She barely felt it. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. You're so ready to go patrol again." 

"I could kick your sorry ass." 

She snorted. "You never could before, you think you can now? 

"I know I can." 

"Fine, prove it." 

He moved to punch her again, but she ducked, and he hit air instead.

"Where are your super fast reflexes, Spike?"

"Body's a bit rusty is all." 

"Come back with me, Spike." 

"No." 

"Fine. Walk with me then." 

They strolled down the block, hand in hand. Buffy paused occasionally to wave or to chat. There were a lot of people on the street even though it was late, past dusk. It was finally cool enough to emerge from their apartments and enjoy the evening. 

"Have you really stopped patrolling?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I told you. They don't need me anymore and I'm busy. Plus, I'm getting old." 

"Old? You're like 23!" 

"That's old for a Slayer, Spike. Ancient, really. There's a reason that Slayers are always teenage girls. They're still elastic and full of energy." 

"I'm sure your elastic."

"I don't feel like it anymore. Having the strength is nice, and like I said, I still help Angel, but I have to focus on other things in my life now." 

"How is that going for you? Life, that is." 

"Life is good. Sometimes stressful and tiring, but good. I think things will get better too."

"Is that right?"

"When I finally graduate and I have a degree to back me up, yeah. When Dawn graduates and goes to college, that'll be nice too."

"How you putting the bit through school?"

"Oh, _I'm_ not. Apparently there's a special Wolfram and Hart scholarship for teenage girls made of mystical energy." 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Am I sure sending Dawn to the best schools in the world is a good idea? Yes, I think I am." 

"I hear that law firm is evil."

"Angel's in charge."

"I hear that law firm is evil." 

"Ok, I'm not entirely comfortable about taking the money. But I need to do what's best for Dawn. She deserves a break for once." 

"You're amazing, Buffy." 

"I am?"

"You are."

"I'm not doing what millions of other people haven't done before me." 

"You're still amazing." 

"You sound sad, Spike." 

"I'm not."

"Good, you shouldn't be sad. You're the reason I'm here, making this work."

"Me? How do you figure?"

"Oh, I don't know, by doing a little thing called _saving the world_." 

"You did all the work Buffy, I just cleaned house a bit." 

"Right, just destroying all the armies of hell is all. Did you…how did that work out for you?"

"Oh, you know, got a pass to Heaven. Don't know how that happened, but figured I shouldn't argue about it." 

"Do you want to go back?"

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

"We're really, really bizarre." 

"If by bizarre you mean amazing and good looking, then yes we are." 

"Why did you leave the apartment?"

"Bored." 

"I lead a dull life now."

"I don't think anything about you could ever be dull." 

"I don't know. Laundry day is pretty dull. Scrubbing the toilet is both gross and dull." 

"Is it what you always wanted Buffy? I mean, really? Is this the normal life you envisioned?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "I get bored too. And overwhelmed sometimes. But you know, I don't have to worry about Dawn being orphaned anymore because some vamp has his one good day. I get to rest." 

Spike stopped walked. She stopped too and looked up at him. He kissed her lips softly and whispered, "I'm really happy for you." 

His decision was made, though he wouldn't tell her now. Not yet. Not until he had to.  


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

When Spike and Buffy finally returned to the apartment, it was empty and Spike was exhausted. 

"Where did everybody go?" Spike asked. 

"Dawn is out with friends. I guess everybody else went back to Angel's." 

"What's up with him anyway?" 

"Who?"

"Angel." 

"Why?"

"Isn't he your one true love? Why is he helping?"

Buffy sighed. "Spike he's helping because we're friends." 

"Is that all? Friends?"

"Yes."

"Because you can never be anything else, right? You know, it is possible to get a soul without the curse." 

"Spike," she said through gritted teeth, "we're friends. That's it." 

"Because of the curse."

"Because I love you." 

"I thought you'd be with him." 

"Why?"

Spike shrugged. "Make sense, didn't it? You save the world, get your life back, and run to his waiting arms."

"I didn't want his waiting arms, Spike. What we had has mellowed to friendship, and that's the way I like it. He's good to have around, you know?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he gets the job done." 

"Are you going to be all jealous for the rest of the night? Because it's boring, and I have other plans." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, I can think of much better things to do with my time than deal with that. I can think of much better things to do with your time." 

"Show me."  

Buffy pulled Spike into the bedroom, and then pushed him onto the bed. "Hey, watch it. I'm still a bit sore." 

"Where? Let me see." 

She yanked his shirt over his head, revealing his healing chest. It wasn't as defined or muscled—still William's body, after all—but her hands and mouth were drawn to it. She skimmed over the marks, and focused on the unmarred skin. She kissed, licked, and nipped at him softly, her hands roaming his body. 

"Oh…Buffy…" he moaned as she continued her exploration. 

"Missed you," she breathed, her hot mouth against his skin. "Let me show you, ok?" 

Her hands fumbled with the fly of his pants, freeing him quickly and pushing the jeans past his hips. She pulled them down his legs, and he was left naked on the bed, waiting for her. He was already hard for her, aching to touch her again, but she batted his hands away. 

"Let me," she repeated. 

She rubbed his warm thighs, massaging the muscles, as her hands moved closer to his crotch. He whimpered slightly as she caressed the sensitive spot, just on the inside of his thigh. His muscles tensed and he jumped. She smiled and rubbed the spot again, and was rewarded with the same reaction. 

Buffy moved further down, careful to touch or massage every single inch of his, burning his flesh with her hot hands, suffusing him with her warmth and her scent, her soft mouth trailing after her fingers, her silky hair falling all around him. 

Buffy straightened long enough to pull her own clothes off, and then stretched out next to him, pressing her breasts against his chest as she covered his mouth with hers. He threaded his fingers though her hair, gripping her tightly, unwilling to let her go again. The kiss deepened, and Spike marveled at the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way her silky skin felt against his, slightly damp with sweat and flushed with desire. 

It was Spike's turn to reacquaint himself with her body, and he did so with gusto. His hands were soft and sure, finding the spots that made her squirm without fail, drawing moans and pleas from her. Fever passion lurked just below the surface, carefully reined in, because both of them wanted to do this right. It wasn't the time to be rough or needy, and Buffy didn't want to force the moment. It needed to happen slowly, naturally, as they both looked for their comfort level. 

They grasped each other, afraid to let go, afraid to let even an inch separate them. Spike could hear both of their hearts, but couldn't tell them apart. His world was the color of her eyes, and everything around them dimmed. The concerns and worries of the day fell behind him, and she too lost all concern for the rest of the world. Blue locked on green, and anything they needed to say was communicated through their gaze and their touches. 

His eyes never left hers when he slipped into her, his forehead resting against hers as he pushed into her again and again. She grasped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him. They tried to keep the slow pace, but it wasn't going to happen. Once he was inside of her, all grand plans of taking it slow fled. He just wanted to pound into her as hard as he could, take her back after over a year, claim her again. 

"Faster," she encouraged. "Faster, faster, faster." 

He stopped, and she yelped in protest. He rolled over and put her on top so she could control the pace. Pleased with the new position, she unleashed herself on him, and he grunted with pleasure. God, he needed this. He needed to see her rise and fall above him. He needed to see her glowing skin and her face awash with bliss. He needed to see her soft breasts, hear her soft moans. Everything was so…soft. 

Despite it all, Spike needed more. He felt like something was missing, something was still wrong. He didn't understand. He had it all, he had everything he wanted in her. She was surrounding him in everyway, and had he really been in heaven? Because this…this was unlike anything he had ever experienced, anytime, anywhere. 

So what was missing?   
  


Spike flipped them over again, and settled on top of her. He pushed her hair away from her neck and forced her head back, exposing her neck. She didn't try to pull away; she didn't give him any indication either way. He hesitantly lowered his head and nuzzled her throat with blunt teeth. She moaned in response, and that encouraged him. He shifted into game face, but didn't do anything past that. Not yet. 

"Do it," she said softly. "Do it." 

Sharp fangs pierced her skin, and she grasped his head, holding him down. There it was. There's what was missing. So elusive…her taste, her fire, her love…her heart. There it was. The blood gave him a high, and his head was spinning. He was so close…his thrust harder into her, his teeth sunk deeper into her flesh, and the rushed pleasure and sharp pain made a heady cocktail for Buffy. She climaxed, gasping his name weakly, unable to speak or think or do anything but close her eyes and ride crest after crest of bliss. 

Spike retracted his teeth, and then came deep inside of her. "Love you," he gasped. "Love you so much." 

She didn't let him pull away from her, even after he was spent. They fell asleep, wrapped around each other and weak from each other, hungry for each other, lost in each other…safe…warm…


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

When Spike woke up, it felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. He gasped for breath, and struggled to his feet. Wheezing and coughing, he choked Buffy's name out, just loud enough for her to hear. She woke up, just as he fell to his knees, to weak to remain standing. 

"Spike? _Spike_! What's wrong?" 

She rushed to his side, putting an arm around his back in an attempt to help him up. When he didn't move, she wrapped her other arm around him to comfort him as he continued to fight for air. 

"Spike? What happened? Are you going to be ok?"

He nodded, finally able to catch his breath. 

"Just take deep breaths, ok? Are you hurt?" 

"No," he whispered. "Just…I'll be fine." 

"Here, let me help you back to bed." 

She helped him to his feet, and he almost immediately collapsed on the bed. She checked his wounds to make sure none of them had re-opened, and looked for other signs of illness. Other than the shortness of breath, he appeared fine. She lay down beside him, curled against his body, and rubbed his chest softly. 

"It felt like my heart was breaking," he said. 

"Just now?" 

He nodded. "I was dreaming about something…I don't remember what, and when I woke up, my chest was just…on fire, I guess." 

"Is everything ok? You didn't like, have a heart attack did you? Your heart is still beating right?"

"No heart attack, and yes, it's still beating." 

She rested her head on his chest and listened for the steady Ithump-thump/I. "Does it still hurt?" 

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"Not even a little."

"That's just odd." 

"In other words, everything is normal." 

She yawned. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I am. You sound sleepy." 

"Mmmm, you feel nice." 

He pet her hair, enjoying the silky texture under his hand. "Go ahead and go back to sleep, luv." 

She yawned again. "If you're sure everything is fine." 

"I'm much better now." 

She fell off to sleep, and he pushed the hair away from her neck so he could see the bite mark. She was forever marked as his now, no matter what. It was a little something for her to remember him by…a constant reminder that they had found each other again somehow, and for once, had made it work. 

That was a rotten trick you pulled.

I didn't do it on purpose.

_Making it feel like someone was squeezing the life out of me was an accident? _

_It hurt._

_No shit._

_No, it hurt me. How do you think this makes me feel?_

_Like someone squeezing the life out of you?_

_Something like that, yeah. _

_Sorry, mate._

_No, you're not. You think I don't know? You think that I'd forget? You had to _mark _her? _Claim_ her? I'll never forget whom she belongs to_. 

Spike sighed. He still had to think of a way to tell her of his decision, and after what they just shared, he knew it wasn't going to be easy. Especially since he didn't know what she wanted anymore. It was clear before that she wanted William back, but maybe she had changed her mind. 

Spike finally fell asleep again, troubled thoughts leading to troubled dreams. 

~*~  
  


Buffy woke up sometime in the middle of the night. She heard Dawn open the door and try to sneak quietly to her room. Way past her curfew, but Buffy really didn't care. She'd let her get away with it for now. 

Spike was sleeping peacefully, occasionally moaning softly, but other than that the only sound in the room was the steady rise and fall of his breath. That was still an odd sensation—listening to him breathe, listening to his heart. For the first time, Spike was more than just a corpse, and she had to admit, she liked it this way. 

She touched the new mark on her neck lightly. It had already began to heal, and soon it would just be a scar. The only scar that really mattered on her battered and marked body. She didn't know what he wanted to do, but what they shared felt a lot like _goodbye_. She thought of the conversation they had had earlier, about her life now, about her future, and she slowly came to the same realization he had. 

Spike didn't belong in her new life. Oh, she would be more than happy to make him fit anyway he could. She would bend over backwards to accommodate him if he wanted to share this new world with her. He wouldn't quite fit though. He may have died to save the world, even gained access to Heaven, but at the end of the day he was still a _vampire, _and the quiet, domestic life was not one for him. He would ultimately be miserable. 

The thought depressed her. She remembered what it was like to come back from Heaven to a world that was no longer structured around her. Before she had died, she had had a place, and she knew it. It wasn't hard and confusing to figure out where she fit in the world, and when she stopped fitting, she had died. End of story. When she came back, it was like hammering a square peg into a round hole. Brute force wasn't enough to make things right; she had learned that the hard way. 

Could she really make Spike learn that too? The world had moved on in the year since he died, and maybe it was no longer the place for him. 

At that thought, a few stray tears escaped and landed on his chest. She watched the salty water run down his side, leaving a damp trail behind. She loved him. In the end, no matter how fucked up things were, she loved him. And she knew she was strong enough to make room for him again. But it would be hard and painful, and she didn't know if either one of them was up for more hardship and pain like that. They had been through it once, and it nearly destroyed both of them before it made them stronger. 

But, if he decided it was worth the risk, then she would figure it out. And if he decided it wasn't worth the risk, she would continue to live without him. 

With a sharp pang of surprise, she realized she hadn't thought about William, and where he fit into all of this. This whole plan was to save him, after all. Sweet William, in all his Victorian shyness, so carefully spoken and well mannered. She knew he loved her—he had told her after all. She almost groaned when she realized that he had a front row seat to the whole night, heard everything they had said, seen everything they had done, maybe even felt it. Despite herself, she felt guilty. She knew that every time he saw Spike's mark on her neck, it would break his heart. 

She knew how he felt about her, but she had no idea how she felt about him. She liked him. And maybe, if things had been different, or if they had more time, she could grow to love him. Maybe she was, before this whole mess happened. Maybe if Spike left, she still could, some day. Or maybe she was doing him a grave disservice, and it would be better for him if he never came back, or alternately, when he does come back, if he took a long trip away from her. Maybe back to England. 

It seemed to be a never-ending source of surprise to Spike that she and Dawn enjoyed William's company so much. She understood that though. It wasn't really Spike's shock, it was William's. But William wasn't comfortable expressing it, and so Spike did it for him. Every "I don't know what you see in him" was really "I don't know what you see in me". Every desperate attempt to distance himself from his human counterpart was really William trying to hide, ashamed of who he was and what he did and maybe even how much he loved. 

Which didn't really help her decision any, just made her feel worse for having to make it. But could she really say she regretted the situation? Would she be honest if she said she wished she never contact Dorjan? If she could go back in time and fix it, _would_ she? Because of the disaster, she did get Spike back, if only temporarily, and she also had a new, pretty amazing man in her life. A man she never would have gotten to know, otherwise. A man she felt, given the right opportunity and encouragement, could be capable of great things. 

Fitting Spike back into her world would be hard, but it would be easy to fit William in. In fact, it was easy to fit William in. And like Buffy, he had never had a chance at a normal life. From what she could tell, he was pathetically lonely before he died, with only his mother for company. An outsider, like she had been. Dead, like she had been. And given a second chance at life, like she had been. Could she really take that gift away from him? He had friends now, and if he could stay for a while longer, he would probably have a purpose too. 

No matter what though, she wanted Spike to be happy. He deserved it after everything he went through. She would respect whatever decision he made, and she would support whatever he did. It was the least she could do.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

A/N—This is a really short update, I know, but I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I wanted to write it. 

Giles found Spike sitting at the kitchen table, a blank piece of paper before him, and a pen clenched tightly in his hand. This was the first time Giles had seen Spike without Buffy or Dawn hanging around him, and so he grabbed the opportunity to talk to him. He didn't know when he would get another chance like this. 

"Spike? Do you mind if I join you?"

Spike shook his head without looking up. 

Giles sat down across the table from the other man, and watched him quietly. 

"What do you want, Watcher?" 

"I would like to talk to you, Spike." 

Spike sighed and looked up. "What now? Are you going to tell me that I should leave for Buffy's good? That it would be best for her if I died again? Save your breath, I don't want to hear it." 

"No, Spike, that's actually not what I wanted to talk about, though I know that has been the topic of interest these past few days." 

"Then what? You'll have to excuse me if I'm not exactly feeling chatty, Rupert." 

"Right, then, I'll just get to it. I have made many mistakes in my life, but I'd like to think that I'm man enough to own up to them. I was wrong about you, Spike, and I'm sorry." 

"Is that right?"

"Yes. I was convinced that you were a liability, and I didn't trust Buffy's judgment on the issue. She has since forgiven me…" 

Spike lifted an eyebrow. "You know, Rupert, it doesn't bother me that you wanted to kill me. Better man than you have tried and failed…shoot, I've killed better men than you myself." He leaned forward and looked the old watcher in the eye. "You know what bothered me though?" 

"What, Spike?"  
  


"That you couldn't even come after me yourself. What happened to the man who went after Angelus with a flaming baseball bat?" 

"That man is older, Spike. Much, much older." 

"Yeah, you look it." 

"I feel it too." 

"Until you've lived over a century, you have no idea what _old_ is."

"Have you made your decision? I'm not going to try to influence you, or Buffy, but I would like to know." 

"Yeah, I've made my decision." 

"Have you told her?"

He waved at the blank piece of paper. "Still trying to figure out how." 

Giles nodded, "I see."  

"How…how is she, Rupert?" 

"What do you mean?"

"She says she's ok, that she has what she wants, but I don't know…maybe she's lying." 

"Would it be easier if she were lying?" 

Spike shrugged. "Maybe." 

"I honestly don't know, Spike. I live in England, and we don't talk as much as we should. She seems to be doing well though." 

Spike nodded. "That's what I thought." 

"I'm sorry Spike, but…why did you do it?"

Spike tensed, defensive. "Why did I do what? I've done a lot of things; you'll have to be more specific." 

"Why did you let yourself die?"

"I didn't exactly have a lot of choices. I don't know what Buffy told you, but there was some sort of light shooting out of my chest…I was pretty much trapped." 

"So you would have run if you could have?"

"No." Spike smirked. "I wanted to save the world."  Spike sighed and looked back at the empty page. "Maybe I won't try to write it down." 

"Why don't you just tell her?"

"Thought it would be easier this way. Can never think of the right words anyway." Spike tossed the pen away with disgust. "You know what she told me today?"

"What?" 

"She told me to do whatever I thought was best. I asked her what I should do, and that's what she said." His tone clearly conveyed that he simply could not believe that she trusted such a decision to him. "Do you know how easy it would be if she told me what she wanted?"

"Maybe she doesn't know," Giles suggested gently. 

"The girl will never know what she wants. All she has to do is say the word…" 

"Isn't that how it's always been, Spike? She says the word, and you jump?"

"Yeah. What's your bloody point?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to treat you that way anymore, Spike."

"It's easier when she's bossing me around." 

Giles nodded. "And she's quite good at it too." 

"The best," Spike agreed. 

"Well, Spike, I believe this is the longest conversation we've ever had that hasn't ended in some sort of threat." 

"I can try harder if you want. I've been off my game these past few days." 

Giles stood up. "I have to go. I promised Dawn I'd pick her up from the mall today." 

"Right. Mustn't be late for the Niblet. Oh, and Rupert?" 

"Yes, Spike?"

"Take care of her, yeah? She needs you, even if she is all grown up." 

"I know." Giles looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he shook his head and left Spike alone in the apartment. 

Chapter 27


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Spike's body was healed. There weren't even any scars. His chest and back were smooth, and he had the rosy glow of health. No more bleeding, no more bruises, no more bite marks that wouldn't heal. He was stronger too. Strong enough to spar with Buffy. 

They had wanted to spar. Though neither of them said the words _one last time_, they had both thought them. Angel let them use his training room—it was huge, and full of weapons. They bypassed the weapons though, both preferring to do this hand-to-hand. It wasn't as awkward as when they had tried to fight on the street, but Buffy still pulled her punches. The body may be healed, but it would never be a strong or agile as Spike used to be. 

Spike grew short of breath quickly, but he didn't stop, and didn't let Buffy stop either. He got one good punch in, knocking her flat on her ass, and they both stared at each other for seconds, maybe minutes. He stood above her, hovering, unsure of whether or not he should offer his hand. When he finally did, she yanked on his arm, and he fell hard to the floor. He kicked her, but she rolled out of the way and stood up. He moved fast, and was able to knock her legs out from under her before she could get far. 

Spike jumped to his feet again, and Buffy did too. Something shifted between them, something subtle and small. Suddenly, this wasn't about sparring anymore. They tore into each other, viciously hitting, kicking, and punching. Spike forgot that he wasn't as agile or quick, and let his demon take over. They both fought as though their lives depended on it, locked in a battle to the death. They bruised each other, drew blood from each other, and slammed each other against the walls and onto the floors. 

Spike's breath was coming in ragged gasps, and there was a trickle of blood flowing down his face from a cut above his eye. He didn't mind though. For the first time in a very long time, years even, he felt really alive. His body was sore, but it was a comfortable kind of pain, like an old friend. His heart was pounding…and he was hard, wanting her so bad that it hurt worse than the fists and the boots. He was having so much fun, that it took him several minutes to realize that Buffy was not. 

As the fight progressed, she grew more and more distant, began pulling her punches and ducking away from him. Curious and a bit upset that the fight was winding down, Spike grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the wall, pinning her to it with his body. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? Nothing. Here, let me show you…" She moved to punch him, but Spike caught her fist, and grabbed her other wrist. She bucked against him, but instead of stepping back, he groaned. 

"You better not do that again, Slayer." 

"Or what? You'll…"

He kissed her hard, cutting off her words. When he finally pulled away, he asked her again, "What's wrong?" 

She pushed him away so hard that he stumbled back, releasing his grip on her. "You're leaving me again." 

"Buffy…" 

"This is like, your way of saying goodbye, isn't it? Let me pound the shit out of you for old time's sake…and then you're just going to leave, aren't you?"

"Hey! I'm not the only one taking a pounding…" 

Her fist came flying to his nose, but he caught it before she connected. "Watch it, Slayer, that would have hurt." 

"When were you going to tell me, Spike? How long have you known?"

"What makes you so certain that I'm leaving?"

"You're not?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned around and began walking to the bench. Suddenly, he was very, very tired. She grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Don't Spike. Don't walk away like…"

"Buffy, how was I supposed to tell you? I didn't know how! If I knew how, I would have. I tried to write a letter, but nothing worked and…" 

"You can't just _leave_ me again, Spike. You can't."

"I thought that's what you wanted!" 

"No! Damnit, this whole thing happened because I wanted you back. I was trying to get _you_ back. I missed you." 

"What, you think I want to leave you again? You think that I don't want to be with you? Being with you…it's better than anything Heaven has to offer me, Buffy." 

"Then why are you going?" 

"Slayer, you know…I shouldn't call you that anymore." 

"What, Slayer?"

"Yeah." 

"Why not?"

"For the same reason I'm going. You're not one anymore."

"I'll always be the Slayer…" 

Spike shook his head. "No, now you're Buffy." 

"And Buffy isn't good enough for you?"

"Buffy is all I'll ever need." 

"Then why, Spike?"

"I'm not good enough for you."

Buffy shook her head. "Oh no you don't. I've heard this speech before. I swear to God, if I hear you say the words 'normal life', I'm going to kick you in the balls."

"Well, I'm going to risk it. I know why Angel left…the misplaced, insane, pigheaded notion that _he_ was holding you back from a normal life, not your calling. He always had a very high opinion of himself, like the whole world revolves around him. 'Ooh my soul, ooh my guilt, wah wah wah." 

"Spike, get to the point."

"Oh, right, well, that's over, isn't it? The slaying gig, that is. You already _have_ a normal life, Buffy. You're young, and soon Dawn is going to be all grown up and you'll be free to do whatever you want. Anything in the world. I _died_ so you could do that, Buffy. That's all I wanted for you. I don't fit in here." 

"Yes you do…"

"No, I don't, and you know it. When you were the Slayer, when your life was on the line every night, when vampires were lining up to have their one good day…you needed a bit of monster in your man. You needed someone strong enough to fight beside you and with you. I'm not what you need anymore, pet." 

"Don't tell me what I need. What are going to do? Be all noble again for my own good? I don't need you to sacrifice yourself for me again, Spike." 

"Maybe it's for me. Maybe it's not about you at all…oh, who am I kidding? It's always about you. But that doesn't change the fact that my mind is made up." 

"You think William will be better suited for my new life?"

Spike shrugged. "I have no idea what's going to happen with him. It'll be nice if you kept him around, since he loves you and all, but…" 

"But?"

"But I'm not doing this just so you can be with him, or he can be with you. Do you want to? Wait, you know, don't answer that." 

"When do you think you're going to leave?"

"Well, soon…but then, you bruised me all up again. And I think I sprained my ankle."

"It would be cruel to make William deal with a battered and beaten body." 

"It really would. Hurts like a bugger, you know."

"Oh, you poor baby. Let me see…" 

"You could at least have the good grace to act like you're injured too."

"Oh, right." She stuck out her lower lip, "Ow, Spike, you hurt my wrist." 

Spike shook his head. "Sparring with you is no fun anymore." 

"I don't know, I had lots of fun. Come here so I can bandage up your ankle, and clean the blood off your face." 

"I don't need your help."

"I have an excellent bed side manner. You may not need my help…but you probably want it." 

"Are you going to kiss all my bruises and make them better?" 

"I might do other things to make them better." 

The thought of shagging the Slayer in Angel's training room…where he'd have to smell it and deal with it for days, maybe even weeks after Spike left, was intoxicating. Absolutely exhilarating. 

"You know, we should focus on the 'other things'. What do you have in mind?" 

Buffy proceeded to show him with great enthusiasm 


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"Oh, God, Slayer…move to the left…the other left…oh…yeah…like that…faster…" 

Spike was so long in the moment, so focused on the way her hot mouth felt around him and the things her tongue was doing, that he didn't hear the door open or hear the other vampire approach. 

"Christ, Buffy," he hissed. "Just a little bit faster…close…" 

"You better move faster," Angel said dryly. "They're waiting for you." 

Both of them jumped, the mood killed instantly. Buffy looked up at Angel and wiped her mouth. Spikes expected her to blush or act humiliated or push him away. Instead she smiled calmly. "We'll be there in a minute." Angel didn't move immediately, too transfixed with shock and horror…and something else…to make himself look away.

"Could you go away, Peaches? We were in the middle of something." 

Angel's eyes narrowed, but he turned on his heel without saying anything else. As soon as the door shut, Spike started chuckling. "Did you see the look on his face?"

"Did you see the look on yours?"

"Pleased?"

  
"Terrified."

Spike blinked. "I was not _terrified_. Why would I be _terrified_?" 

"I don't know Spike, why would you be." 

Spike glared at her. "Are you going to finish at least?" 

"No, we're going to be late for the meeting. Come on you, get up." 

"I am up," he muttered, shooting another glare at her. She only laughed at him as she buckled his pants. "You are a cold, heartless bitch."

"I am," she agreed. "Come on, I'll make it up to you later." 

"I don't want it later, I want it now." 

"Are you going to pout now?"

Spike sighed as he stood up, then pulled his pants on. "I don't pout. What's this bleeding thing about anyway?"

"You." 

"Tired of being the center of attention."

"Tends to happen when you come back from the dead…twice. I heard that Wes has some new information." 

"And it couldn't wait five more minutes?"

"Yeah, believe it or not, the whole world doesn't revolve around you." 

"Right, I forgot, it revolves around you." 

"You know it." She opened Wes's office door and shooed Spike in. 

"Spike, Buffy," Wes greeted from behind his desk. Angel was standing in the corner, pointedly not looking at them, Giles was seated on the couch surrounded by books and papers. "How was your sparring?"

"Good," Spike said. "Nice workout." He sprawled out on a leather chair, his hand rested casually between his legs. "Well?" He drawled. 

Buffy sat down on the other chair. "What have you got?" 

"There is still one problem we needed to solve once the body has healed—the question of the soul. After all, we can't just send Spike away again. He needs the soul to be whole," Wes explained.

"We also had to take into consideration the prophecies of what William needs to survive. It was very troubling…" Giles continued. 

"So, did you figure it out?" Spike asked. 

"We think so. I don't know what you have decided…"

"I'm going," Spike said plainly. 

"Ok, in order to do that, we need to perform a certain spell. You cannot return to heaven without your soul. If you truly want William to return, we'll have to perform a binding spell, that will keep all three aspects of your…essence…together."

"How will that work?" Buffy asked. 

"Spike will be bound to the soul, which will keep him out of hell. Unfortunately, it will also keep him out of heaven for the duration of William's life. He'll remain in limbo," Giles answered. 

"That black place? I bloody hated that. It was boring." 

Wes nodded. "Yes, that place. This technically fulfills the requirements for William to remain on Earth. He needs your strength, your life, and your death." 

"The first part of the requirement is already fulfilled," Angel supplied. 

"Yes, thank you," Spike said dryly. "I never would have figured that one out." 

"So, Spike is just going to hang out in limbo until William dies?" Buffy asked. "Then what happens?" 

"Then the demon is reunited with the soul and they return to Heaven."

"How do you know?" Buffy demanded.

"Well…we don't know for sure," Giles admitted. "We can't know for sure if this will work, but we're fairly confident that it will work." 

"But I definitely won't be pulled into Hell?" 

"No. This spell will insure that you won't go _anywhere_ without the soul. You'll be stuck, it's true, but it's better than the alternative," Wes explained. 

"Could I still…Could I talk to him like I did before?" Buffy asked. 

Giles nodded. "It's possible. That type of magic is very consuming, however, so it cannot be done often. But it's not harmful." 

"I think we need to go home and think about this," Buffy said. "Spike?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Spike stood up and nodded at the other men. "Thanks." 

"Did Spike just thank us?" Giles asked as soon as they left the room. 

"Dying again must have mellowed him." 

~*~

"Tell me about him, Slayer." 

"Who?"

"William. Tell me what his life is like here." 

Buffy turned over and rested her head on his chest. "He likes to watch TV a lot. When we're not home, he spends his time in front of the television. He has an odd fascination with the court shows. I think Judge Judy is his favorite. But usually he's watching the Discovery Channel or the History Channel. He loves the History Channel." 

"Sounds boring."

"He makes it interesting. He reads a lot too. He reads to me…we're working on Jules Verne now. A chapter a night. He enjoys it more than I do, but I like the books too. He writes all of the time. He won't share his poems with me, and I've never looked at his notebook so I don't how good he is…"

"Bloody awful."

"The poems mean a lot to him. He's very protective of them."

"He has reason to be." 

"I don't think he just writes poetry though. Like I said, I've never looked at his notebook, but I suspect he's writing something else. He's already been through 2 of Dawn's school notebooks. I need to teach him how to use the computer." 

"It wouldn't be the same," Spike said softly. "It's not the same at all." 

"Well, he might want to have a back up of his work."

"So is that all he does? Just waste his time watching TV and writing crap?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Like you have room to talk. But no, that's not all he does. He has a strange fascination with my kitchen. He's very…orderly."

"The kitchen was always a safe place." 

"What?"

"I'd go there…he'd go there…the cook would give him food, scraps of meat or pie or whatever. Warmest room in the house. Comfortable." 

"Well, my kitchen isn't that nice. He likes to cook though. He's getting good at it. Dawn is showing him how. When he's angry—which doesn't happen often—he reorganizes the cabinets." 

"That's just weird, Buffy."

"I know." 

"Does he ever get out of the house?"

"Not much. I have to work a lot, and Dawn enjoys spending time with him, but she has her own life. He doesn't like going out anyway. Crowds make him nervous."

"Muggers and tuberculosis. He wouldn't want to risk it." 

"Well, he braved the mall more than once, and we had a good time."

"So what do you think? He'd come back and keep up this breakneck pace?"

"He was sick, Spike. Really sick. We pretended he was getting better, but we both knew better. He wasn't strong enough to do much…I think he would love to do more. He has a lot of dreams, Spike." 

"I know." 

"I do want to help him. It's kind of a second chance, you know?"

"I know." 

"You said earlier that he was there…"

"He is. Quiet, now." 

Buffy sighed. "They said I could still talk to you." 

"It might be easier if you don't."

"You'd get lonely." 

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Keep him…I'm not going to try to replace you, Spike. He could never do that. I would never want him to." 

"Have you slept with him?"

"No, Spike. I have not." 

"Just asking…Would you?"

"I don't know Spike. That's not what our relationship is about."

"Yet." 

Buffy didn't answer.  


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"So, what do we have to do?" Buffy asked. She and Spike were in the middle of a large circle, surrounded by candles. Spike was laying down, his head resting comfortably on a pillow. Buffy was kneeling beside him, looking concerned and almost sick. 

"Nothing," Wes answered. "He just has to lay there." 

"And then?"

"We perform the spell. He'll seem to fall asleep. When he wakes up, it'll be William," Willow explained. 

"Can we have a moment?" Buffy asked. Everybody nodded and cleared out, though Giles warned her that they didn't have a lot of time. There were constraints. Buffy nodded, she understood. There were always constraints. 

"So this is then?" Spike asked. 

"You don't have to do this. Really, you could change your mind." 

"No, I want to."

"Why?"

"You…both of you…deserve it. Let me, Buffy. Let me give this to you." 

"You already did. Remember? With the big firey death?" 

"I won't soon forget, Buffy." 

"Do you think…" 

"Do I think what?"

"Do you think that maybe…your soul won't be the only thing you meet up with in Heaven?"

"Are you asking me if we'll get to be in heaven together?" 

"Yeah."

"That's a strange question, isn't it luv? Never occurred to me that anybody would ask it. Almost seems wrong to put those words together." 

"Does that mean no?" 

Spike shook his head. "I'll find you. It wouldn't be Heaven without you, would it?"

"I wouldn't expect any less from you. I don't know how to do this, Spike. Goodbyes…" 

"Not really a goodbye, yeah? More of a 'until we meet again.'" 

"I can't help but worry that we won't. Nothing ever seems to go the way it should." 

"We will," he vowed. "Even if I have to tear heaven and hell and every dimension in between apart with my bare hands, we'll meet again." 

"You're so cheesy and over-dramatic." 

"That's what you love about me. That and my amazing good looks." 

"Yes, you are amazingly good looking." 

"Even in this flabby body." 

Buffy hit his arm. "You're not flabby." 

"Watch it Slayer, that hurt." 

"All of this hurts." 

"Hey, don't cry. I hate it when you cry." 

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "I'm not crying. See?" 

"I must be seeing things." 

Buffy threaded her fingers through his hand. This time, they didn't catch on fire, though her skin still burned at the contact. He clasped he hand tightly, suddenly afraid to let her go. 

"I'll hold on," she promised. 

"Think it's going to hurt?"

"Doesn't everything?"

"Yeah….Don't feel bad about this ok, Buffy? Don't feel guilty, don't worry about me…focus on you and the Niblet." 

"Who says I'd worry about you?" 

"Just covering all my bases." 

She brushed his lips with hers softly. "Thank you, Spike." 

"For what?"

"For everything I should have thanked you for before. For loving me. For being my strength." 

"I do what I can. Even if it never feels like enough." 

"It was always more than enough." 

Giles stepped into the room then. "I'm sorry Buffy. We have to do this now." 

She nodded. "Right ok. Can I stay with him or do you need me to step out of the circle?" 

"You need to step out," Willow said. "Unless you want to be bound to the ether too." 

Buffy frowned. "Not so much." She looked down at him. "I love you." 

"I know, Slayer. I love you too." 

"Goodbye, Spike…" The words were just faint hints of whispers, but he caught them, and smiled. 

"Ta, luv." 

She stood up and stepped away from him, narrowly avoiding knocking down all the candles. Angel grabbed her arm so she wouldn't stumble, and held her by his side, offering her silent support while she watched her lover die—again. 

Wes, Willow, and Giles formed a triangle outside the circle and began reciting in turn. After the light shows of before, Buffy expected a huge drama. She expected swaths of blood and gore, people screaming and crying, possibly the hand of God reaching down into Spike's chest. 

_You could stop this. If you do it right now. You could stop it. Buffy, say something…stop them from taking him again, stop them from taking him away_. But she couldn't. As before, this was his decision, and nothing would sway him from it. It almost seemed as though he was trying to prove himself, or prove something to himself. Either way, she was reduced to a helpless spectator. 

_At least I got to say goodbye this time_. That was something. In fact, she was sure it would go a long way towards helping her heal. There were so many people she didn't get a second chance with, so many people she didn't say goodbye too. So that was something. At least she had that. And at least her love was affirmed, announced, shared with him and the world. That would help too. The grieving process—this year long struggle to come to terms with losing _everything_—could finally end. She had her questions answered and her heart soothed and a life to live. 

The chanted words throbbed in her head, the smoke from the candles and the incense made it difficult to breath. She grew increasingly light-headed and had to struggle to keep her eyes open. She needed to see this. She couldn't pass out, even if her stomach was rolling and her eyelids were heavy. She needed to see him leave the world because she missed it before, and she couldn't miss it again. 

Because everything had been so quiet and understated—especially compared to the other spells they had tried to cast—the loud clap of thunder—_how could that be_—and the bright flash of light scared the hell out of her. She jumped and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was seeing spots it had been so bright. She noticed that the Willow and the two ex-watchers were sitting on the floor, looking rather dazed. Angel was rubbing his eyes and blinking repeatedly. 

And Spike's—William's—body was lying limply on the floor.

"Oh, god, is he breathing?" Buffy demanded, rushing to his side. She grabbed his wrist to check his pulse and put her head on his chest, listening desperately to hear a beat—no matter how small. It seemed like she was listening for hours, her eyes tightly shut, a small prayer ready to fall from her lips if it was needed, when she heard it. IThump thump/I.

"Buffy?"

"He's alive," she said softly. "He's alive." 

Giles and Wes exchanged shocked looks that Buffy missed, but Willow caught. Frowning, she walked over and whispered in Giles' ear, "You didn't think he would make it, did you?"

"There was a slight possibility that the demon wouldn't willingly let William survive," he said softly. 

"Why didn't you tell them that?"

"Spike was ready to die anyway…we didn't have an alternative, Willow." 

"They should have known," she insisted. 

Giles sighed. "Sometimes, Willow, ignorance truly is bliss. This would have gone on for much longer, and would have been much more painful for both of them, if Buffy knew the risk involved." 

"We need to get him to a bed," Buffy announced. Willow glanced at her friend, and then back to Giles. 

"Did we do the right thing, Giles?" 

"I think we did the best we could. Come on, let's help Buffy get him to bed." 

In the end, Buffy didn't need their help getting him into the bedroom. She wouldn't allow anybody else to touch him anyway. She laid him down gently, and covered him with a blanket so he wouldn't get cold. 

"Buffy? Are you going to stay in here?" 

"Yes, I want to be here when he wakes up."

"Do you want us to stay?" Willow asked. 

"No, no, I'm good." 

They nodded and moved out of the room—except Dawn. 

"I got to say goodbye to him this time." 

"Me too." 

"It was hard." 

"I agree." 

"I love him you know." 

"Me too." 

"Tell me when William wakes up." 

"I will." 

Dawn left her sister alone then, sensing that Buffy wasn't in the mood to talk. Buffy held his hand, stroking it slightly. _Who is going to be there when he opens his eyes? Did this work?_

She didn't have to wait long for her answer. Only thirty minutes after the spell was over, his eyes opened wide—a crystal clear blue. 

"William?" 

He smiled, and his a softly accented voice answered, "Hello, Buffy." 

The End 

(Except for the Epilogue).

Epilogue


	30. Epilogue

Epilogue

One year later… 

Buffy watched him from across the table, a small smile tugging on her lips. He was so nervous…so flustered. He kept dropping his fork and fumbling with his napkin. Occasionally he would run his hand through his hair, and it wasn't long until it was standing on end. Occasionally he would look up and smile a little, but mostly he tried to avoid eye contact. 

"William, would you like dessert now?"

"Now? But it's so early, though I suppose if you're ready…"

"I meant the cake." 

"Oh, right, of course. No thanks, I'm not very hungry." 

Oh, she just wanted to…lick him all over. Perhaps her thoughts were reflected in her eyes, because he blushed and looked away. 

"I'll just…clear the table," he stammered. "And do the dishes, and when was the last time I swept?" 

"I think you can leave all that for tomorrow." 

"Right, right. Of course." His fork fell to the floor and he bent to pick it up, his shaking fingers not quite able to grasp it. 

"Leave it." Buffy stood up and walked over to him. He straightened in his seat and looked at her with such desperate desire and that it made her heart twist a little. She offered her hand. "Come on, William." 

"Now?"

"Now." 

William took her hand and stood up with an eager smile that he could not suppress, no matter how hard he tried. She could see his pants bulge, but was careful not to let her eyes linger there. She didn't want to embarrass him more than was absolutely necessary. She led him down the hall to the bedroom—it was hers again. She offered to share with him, but he insisted on staying on the couch, and then when Dawn moved out, he took her room. 

He shut the door behind them and glanced at the light switch. "Do you want to leave it on?" Buffy asked. 

"I…I don't know." 

"We'll leave it on then. Come here." 

He shuffled over to her, sick with nerves and lust, aching with desire. They had kissed before, and she had even allowed him to touch her—wherever he wanted—but they had never gone beyond that. Until now. And suddenly, he didn't know how to do anything. His reservations began to crumble though when she kissed him, her sweet lips making him moan and melt into her. 

While she kissed him, she unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled it off of his shoulders. At the first touch of her fingers on his heated skin, he shuddered, growing uncomfortably hard. Buffy noticed, and instantly relieved the tension a bit by unzipping his pants. He tensed, nervous, already trying to pull away from her hands. 

"Shhh," she soothed. "Relax William. It's ok." 

"I can't," he gasped. Her hand grazed his thigh. 

"I'm not going to hurt you, Will." 

"I know," he moaned as her fingers worked beneath his boxers, hooked around the waist, and pulled them down. When he realized he was completely naked, he blushed a deep scarlet. "Maybe we can turn off the lights?" 

"William, do you want to do this? We can stop…" 

"No, no," he interrupted her. "God no, don't stop."

"Undress me?" 

He nodded quickly, un-tucking her shirt and pulling it over her head. He didn't attempt to unclasp her bra though, instead he focused on removing her skirt. Her thong made him pause though, and he looked up at her helplessly. 

She smiled at him, and slowly pushed the black silk past her smooth thighs—he couldn't look away. His eyes followed its path down her legs, and then was pulled back to the area it had just uncovered. 

"I never…" 

"I know." She them mesmerized him by reaching behind her and unclasping her bra, allowing the lace to falling from her body and land at her feet. 

"You're so beautiful," he breathed in awe. "Just absolutely…glowing." 

Buffy stepped towards him and wrapped her hands around his neck. "So are you," she said, before kissing him again. Her hot, soft body pressed against his, and it was almost too much for him to bear. He forced himself to recite poetry to take his mind off the way she felt because if he didn't…

Buffy fell back on the bed, pulling him with her. It felt like her hands were everywhere on his body as she began to rub and caress him, trying to show him by example. He was a quick student. His light fingers trailed down her chest and stomach, and then back up her ribs.

"Touch me," she encouraged softly. 

He looked so grimly determined that she couldn't help but smile. She traced the outline of his jaw and lips lovingly as he gathered his courage and began to explore her body. He closed his eyes and turned his body over to instinct, allowing himself to just do whatever felt right. She encouraged him with soft moans and whimpers, arching into his touch, curving her body against his. 

Tentatively, with infinite gentleness, he allowed his fingers to dip between her thighs and skim her lips—already wet with her desire. He sucked his breath in sharply, amazed at how soft, how hot, how amazing she felt. "Oh god…" 

"More…" 

His fingers slipped into her, but he paused, unsure of what to do. Buffy grabbed his hand and guided his finger to her clit. "Rub it like this…" She rubbed the back of his hand with a soft, circular motion. 

He nodded, and began to mimic her movement. Perfectly. She bucked against his hand, surprised and thrilled by the sharp pleasure spreading from her groin. God, it had been so long…

"That feels so good," she breathed. "Don't stop." 

"I won't," he promised, almost solemnly. 

Buffy reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He yelped with surprised, but that turned into a moan as she began to rub him. Her fingers were so tight, so soft…she was moving so fast. The friction was building, and he could smell her soft perfume, her moans echoed in his ears, her skin was hot—he had total sensory overload. 

"A little faster," she whispered. "Move a little faster." 

William moved faster, delighted and encouraged by the way she gasped his name. He wanted to hear it again. He increased the pressure slightly, and was rewarded—"_William_." The reward was enough to push his already frail defenses down, and he exploded all over her hand, just as her body shook with her own release. 

"Oh god," he gasped. "Oh god, I'm sorry." 

"No, don't be sorry. It's fine." 

"Are you sure? I've made an awful mess…let me clean it up…" 

"William. It's fine, I promise."

"But…what about…" 

She moved her hand lower and fondled him gently until he grew hard again. William's eyes widened. "There, now you're ready again. You are ready, right?"

"Oh, yes," he breathed. 

Buffy propped herself up on the pillows, and then pulled him on top of her. 

"I don't know if I know how," he admitted. 

"You know how," she promised. "Everybody knows how." 

William nodded and kissed her softly. As his tongue pushed into her mouth, he thrust into her. "Oh. Oh. Oh, Buffy…" 

"I know. I know…" She began moving her hips, showing him the rhythm, teaching him the dance. As before, he was a quick study, and it wasn't long until he was leading her. 

She was tempted to close her eyes, but she didn't. Instead she locked gazes with him, meeting his dark, passionate blue eyes, and smiling. His face was still shining with awe, and he smiled back—he did look beautiful. 

William moved faster, and the familiar sensations flooded her body. It had been so, so long. And William was so sweet and eager to please. He studied her face carefully, concentrating on the emotions that danced across her eyes, as low he was looking for something. 

"Buffy, I think I'm going to…" 

"It's ok. So am I…Touch me again, William. Like before." 

He reached between them and found her again, touching her as before. The barest brush of his fingers was enough though, to send her crashing into another orgasm. Her tight, slayer muscles clenched him as she through her head back, letting her body ride it out. That was too much for William, and he pushed into her one final time, his body freezing with the force of his climax. He moaned her name over and over until there was nothing left in him, and he collapsed beside her. 

"That was…the most amazing…I didn't know…" 

Buffy nodded. "I tried to tell you." 

"I want to do it again." 

"We will. Lots of time in many different positions." 

He caressed the side of her face. "I love you, Buffy." 

She smiled at him. "I love you too, William." 

~*~

A/N---What about that? I actually finished a fic! Go me! And there were those among you who didn't think it would happen. 

I'd like to thank several people. Bubonicplague and Ceit….my first and most dedicated readers. If it wasn't for them, I would have never been able to finish this fic, much less post it. I'd like to thank everybody in chat—Coroba, rbabe, jinx, redqueen, voodoo, buffyx—for putting up with me while I talked about, encouraging me when necessary. I'd like to thank _everybody_ who left me reviews. Every single review was so special to me, really, I love them. Review lots. It makes me happy. I'd like to thank whoever nominated this fic for awards, and everybody who asked to archive it. 

And my husband for being my muse. 

And anybody else I forgot. 


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